You're an Idiot, Sirius Black
by Squid7000
Summary: My 7th year to-do list: 1. Find a cure for cancer. 2. Avoid EX-best friend, Sirius Black, at ALL costs. 3. Survive. *cricket, cricket* Yeah, I should be so lucky. SB/OC **ABANDONED. To anyone who's stuck around or left a kind word - thank you so much. I'm so sorry.**
1. Prologue I

**You're an Idiot, Sirius Black**

**A/N: **Ok, so this is my first fic with an actual plotline! Woo-hoo! I feel so accomplished!

**EDIT 2/27/07: **So, I have begun to go through this story and revise it. I know it's not finished yet, but why wait, right? I will probably revise and re-revise and re-re-revise (you get the picture) all my fanfictions for as long as I'm on this site simply because I will continue to grow as a writer. Thanks so much to everyone who has helped me thus far!

**Disclaimer: **Harry Potter's world belongs to Jo and if you read this chapter, you will realize that I am not, by any means, her.

**Prologue I**

_**June 12**__**th**__**, 1966 **_

_Six-year-old Sirius Black clambered through the bushes, cackling madly to himself at the horrible prank he had just pulled. After climbing through the last of the brush, he collapsed into a grassy circular clearing and remembered his incredible tactics. But, no matter how clever they had been, nothing could compare to the wondrous reactions of his family. Seeing his father's rage, his mother's fear, and his brother's admiration had all been too good to be true._

_Sirius laughed harder, relishing the feel of his success, as he rolled around on the grass._

"_What's so funny?" a voice suddenly asked. _

_Sirius stopped laughing and rolling and sat up quickly. A girl was swinging on a swing-set a little ways away from him. She had curly, golden hair up in a ponytail, bright blue eyes, and looked to be no older than him._

"_I just put a live bee in my father's toothpaste," Sirius stated gravely. _

_A horrified expression crossed the girl's face. "I'm terribly allergic to bees."_

"_Oh."_

_The girl began to swing up and down as they both took in the other. _

"_You're a Muggle?" Sirius finally asked._

"_I'm a what?"_

"_Oh, nothing. It's just that my mum and dad don't like Muggles. They'd be really ticked off if I was friends with one."_

"_Oh."_

"_What's that you're doing?" Sirius asked, eyeing the swing._

"_Swinging." The girl's eyes widened. "You've never been on the swings before?"_

"_No." Sirius crossed his arms, indignant. "Is there something wrong with that?"_

"_No, it's just . . . haven't you ever been to the park?"_

_Sirius sighed. "I _told_ you, my parents don't like Muggles."_

"_What's a mugger?"_

"_Muggle."_

"_Yeah, that."_

_Sirius pursed his lips and appraised the girl through his stormy, gray eyes. Finally, he mentally shrugged. If anyone ever caught wind of what he was about to do, he could always blame it on young age._

"_A Muggle's someone who's not a witch or wizard," he explained._

_The girl cocked her head. "Does that mean _you're_ a witch or wizard?"_

_Sirius smiled proudly. "You bet I am!"_

"_I've never had a friend who's a witch or wizard," the girl remarked. _

"_Well, now you do."_

_She smiled cheerfully, but her smile soon faded. "I thought you said your parents don't like Muggles."_

"_Which is exactly why we should be friends!" Sirius cried. "The less my parents like you, the better!"_

_The girl furrowed her brow, but Sirius did not give her time to respond. "Do you mind if I swing with you?" he asked._

"_Oh no, not at all."_

_Sirius sat on the swing beside her, his brow furrowed in concentration. He studied her every movement as she swung back and forth. Finally, he decided to try it himself. At first, his face was a mask of determination, but, slowly, a giant smile grew as he soared to new heights._

"_This is great!" he laughed jubilantly. "I can't believe my parents have been hiding it from me all this time!"_

_The girl smiled, but then a thought struck her. "Mr. Witch or Wizard?" she called._

"_Hmm?"_

"_Do you have a name?"_

"_Yup!" In his ecstasy, he didn't care to elaborate._

"_And what is it?"_

"_Sirius Orion Black."_

_The girl giggled. "That's an odd name."_

"_Oh yeah?" Sirius slowed himself so he was swinging in time with her. "What's yours then?"_

"_Amanda. Lots of folks just call me Mandy, though."_

"_Well, it's a pleasure to meet you, Mandy."_

"_You too, Siri!"_

_Sirius made a face. "Siri? That's a _girl's_ name!"_

"_So? Sirius Orion Black is a mouthful."_

"_But at least it's _manly_!"_

_Amanda giggled. "What do _you_ know about being _manly_? You're just a _boy_!"_

_Sirius frowned, deeply troubled by this. "I won't always be."_

_They continued swinging in silence, for what felt like eternity. Finally, as the sun began to set, Sirius sighed._

"_I should get going," he announced, hopping off his swing. "My parents'll be really mad. It was nice meeting you!"_

"_Will you come back?" Amanda called to his retreating form._

"_Hopefully . . . If Mum and Dad don't kill me first!"_

_**August 30**__**th**__**, 1966**_

"_How come you don't go to school, Sirius?" Amanda asked, as she swung next to the newfound friend who had taken to visiting the clearing several times a week._

"_My parents don't want me to socialize with Muggles," Sirius said. "But don't worry; when I'm eleven, I'll start going to a special school for witchcraft and wizardry."_

"_Ooooh, what do you learn at a school like that?"_

"_Loads of stuff. Transfiguration, potion making, charms, things like that."_

"_Wow," Mandy said dreamily. "In my school, you learn boring things like maths."_

"_My cousins say History of Magic is really boring. It's taught by a ghost."_

"_How could anything taught by a ghost be _boring?_" Amanda cried._

_Sirius just shrugged._

_Suddenly, there was a rustling in the bushes. Amanda and Sirius both went deathly still and quiet. Then, a head popped out of the shrubbery causing the pair to let out yelps._

"Reg_!" Sirius cried at the small, black-haired boy who had surfaced. "Did you _follow_ me?"_

"_I just wanted to know where you've been sneaking off to!" the boy named Reg defended. "Mum and Dad notice you've been sneaking off a lot lately, too. They'll be really mad, if they find you've been coming . . ." his eyes traveled to Amanda, "here."_

_Sirius fixed the boy with a menacing glare. "Well, they're not going to find out, are they? _Are_ they?"_

"_N-n-no!" Reg squeaked._

"_Good!" Sirius huffed. He looked to Amanda. "Mandy, this is my little brother, Regulus. Regulus, this is Mandy."_

"_Hi!" Amanda said brightly. "Would you like to join us on the swings?"_

_Regulus looked sorely tempted by her offer, but then he sighed and ran off._

"_Did I say something wrong?" Amanda asked, bewildered. _

"_Nah," Sirius said, rolling his eyes. "Reg's just a goody-two-shoes. Whatever Mummy and Daddy say goes."_

"_How come your parents don't like Muggles, Siri?"_

"_Don't know. I never listen to them enough to find out."_

_**December 15**__**th**__**, 1966 **_

_The day was quite peaceful. A light snow covered the ground, the sky was a beautiful clear blue, and the smell of freshly baked cookies was heavy in the air. Amanda and Sirius swung side by side, neither saying a thing, just enjoying the moment. Amanda took a deep breath of air, letting it lift her up and soar her into the sky. The wind rushed against her face, blowing her hair back. She climbed higher and higher . . . and higher . . . and higher . . ._

"_SIRIUS ORION BLACK!!"_

_Amanda's eyes flipped open. Standing in front of her was a tall, imposing man with dark hair and eyes, clutching in one hand a stick, and in the other a frightened looking Regulus Black. She dug her feet into the snow, causing her to stop swinging, as Sirius did the same._

"_SNEAKING OFF TO FRATERNIZE WITH A MUGGLE?!"_

_Sirius' eyes darted to Regulus._

"_He made me tell, I swear!" Regulus cried._

"_YOU ARE A DISGRACE TO THE FAMILY NAME!"_

"_Dad, be quiet," Sirius mumbled. "The neighbors will hear."_

"_WHAT DID YOU JUST ---"_

"_I SAID _SHUT UP_!"_

_Sirius' father seemed taken aback by his son's words. He blinked a few times and took some deep, cleansing breaths. Finally, he was able to regain a threatening demeanor without shouting._

"_You are to come back home with me and you are to never journey here again," Mr. Black said. "Do you understand?"_

_Sirius said nothing._

"Do you understand ---?"

"_Yes, Father," Sirius said, standing up. "I understand."_

_Mr. Black looked satisfied. He cast a repulsed glance to Amanda before turning on his heel, dragging Regulus with him. Sirius followed, not once looking back._

_**January 1**__**st**__**, 1967 **_

_Amanda idly traced patterns in the snow, as she sat on her swing. It had been three weeks since Sirius had left, but she still missed his visits terribly. He was such a great companion when she was bored . . ._

"_Happy New Year," a voice suddenly said._

_Amanda's eyes widened. She slowly looked up and gasped when she saw the familiar black-hair, gray-eyed boy smiling at her._

"_Sirius!" she cried, hopping off the swing and throwing her arms around him. "You came back! I thought your dad had banned you!"_

_Sirius laughed. "He did. But since when have I ever listened to my dad?"_

_Amanda giggled and pulled back. She looked at him before frowning. "Why'd you come back?"_

"_Because we're friends." He said it as if it was the most obvious statement in the world. "Right?"_

_Amanda smiled and hugged him again, happier than she had been in a long time. "Right."_

_**May 17**__**th**__**, 1970**_

_Years passed since the day they had first met. Even though Sirius did not visit as often as he once had, in order to avoid his parents' suspicion, the pair continued to grow infinitely closer. _

_You see, many people found Amanda odd, especially when she talked about the boy wizard, Sirius Black. People thought he was imaginary. They made fun of her for believing in magic and witches and wizards and called her names. Her parents were worried for her, also. They felt it was dangerous to still have imaginary friends at ten years old and to believe in those friends with such conviction, but she stuck to her story: a wizard of her own age, who lived in number 12 Grimauld Place, visited her each month. They told her there _was_ no number 12 Grimauld Place. Sirius, however, thought she was a perfectly normal Muggle and that was why she loved talking to him so much. He wasn't waiting for her to sporadically burst into flames, or anything._

_Sirius also found their friendship endearing. His family became more of an annoyance everyday with their constant rants of "Pureblood this, Mudblood that." Regulus ate up their every word, but Sirius simply did not understand what the big deal was. When he went to Diagon Alley or Hogsmeade, he could not tell the difference between a Muggle-born and a Pureblood. With his family, he had to keep up the facade that he had some idea what they were going on about. But with Amanda, the naïve Muggle girl, he could be himself completely._

"_Sirius?" Amanda called as he pushed her on the swing._

"_Yeah?"_

"_Are you _really_ a wizard?"_

_Sirius groaned. "We've been through this before, Mandy."_

"_I know, I know! It's just that . . . everyone tells me magic doesn't exist and it's time I grew up."_

"_Well, don't listen to them. They're just a bunch of stupid bozos who don't like what they don't understand."_

"_Hmm." Amanda mulled his words over. "That's actually kind of deep, Sirius."_

_Sirius grinned. "You doubted my deepness?"_

_Mandy giggled. "Not for a second."_

_He continued to push her, trying to see how high he could get her to go._

"_Not everyone thinks I'm a complete nut, you know," Amanda continued. "The other day, Johnny Nix actually said he thought I was pretty! And he's the cutest boy in our year! Do _you_ think I'm pretty, Siri?" _

"_Don't call me that."_

"_Answer the question."_

"_Well, um, I don't know. I've never really thought about it. What do you think of me?"_

"_Oh, I think you're very handsome and when you get older you'll be quite the dashing, young lad. Perhaps not quite as dashing as Johnny Nix, but still --- Aaaaagh!!!!!!!"_

_Amanda was suddenly flying through the air. _Oh, Merlin, _Sirius thought. He had not _meant_ to perform accidental magic --- that was, of course, why it was labeled "accidental." Stupid uncontrollable powers. Though, in the back of his mind, something was nagging at him that she deserved it. What right did she have to say this "Johnny Nix" character would be better looking than him? It was utter nonsense!_

Well, I'll miss you, Mandy, _he thought solemnly. _You were a good friend.

_Then, a miracle happened._

_When she was about to go crashing to the ground, possibly breaking every bone in her body, she suddenly stopped. She just lay there for a moment; face down, levitating two feet above the hard grass and dirt, as if being supported by an invisible table. Then, she abruptly collapsed, hitting the ground with a dull thud, but not nearly as hard as it would have been had her momentum been carried out. She sat up, rubbing her head._

_Sirius ran toward her, his eyes wide as saucers. That little display had looked an awful lot like . . . but surely it _couldn't_ be . . . _

"_Why did you do that?" Amanda asked. "And how'd you push me so hard?"_

"_How did _I_ push you so hard? How did _you_ manage to stop yourself from dying?"_

_Amanda shrugged. "Luck?"_

"_It didn't look like luck. It looked like . . . like magic!"_

_Amanda continued to massage her head, before his words sunk in. "Magic? How could it have been? I'm not the wizard here, you are. And besides, even if I was a witch, I don't know how to do magic."_

"_Sometimes," Sirius explained, "when you're young and don't know how to control it, magic comes out when you're really angry, or happy, or scared. Were you just feeling any of those things?"_

"_Well, of course," Mandy scoffed. "I was about to die!"_

_Sirius helped her to her feet. "Here," he said. "Let's see if it was just a fluke or not."_

"_What do you . . ." Her eyes widened as he drew back his fist. "Siri . . . SIRIUS, DON'T ---" She closed her eyes and waited for his knuckles to make contact with her nose. They never did._

_Amanda hesitantly peaked through her lashes and gasped when she saw Sirius' fist barely centimeters away from her face. Her eyes opened fully and she looked to him. Sweat was beaded on his forehead, and he seemed to almost be struggling against some kind of invisible barrier. She blinked and side stepped. He was suddenly able to follow through on the punch and collapsed in a heap from all his momentum._

_Amanda stared at him before asking, "What if it _had_ been 'just a fluke?' You would have broken my nose!"_

_Sirius looked up at her, dumbstruck. "Mandy . . ." he said slowly, "do you realize what this means?"_

"_Of course I realize what this means! But . . . do you want to remind me, just in case?"_

_He smiled up at her the biggest smile she had ever seen on him. "You're a witch, Amanda."_

_**August 1**__**st**__**, 1971**_

_Amanda ran down the path that led to the little clearing, a piece of parchment clutched in her hand. She clambered through the bushes, causing several leaves and branches to get caught in her unruly hair. When she finally reached the little, circular clearing, she saw the swing set was not the only thing present. Sirius stood at the opposite side, looking as if he had just climbed through the bushes with a letter, too._

_They both took the other in, and then beamed and ran to the center where they embraced hugely._

"_I got it!" Amanda cried. "I got the letter!"_

"_I said you would!" Sirius picked her up and spun her in a circle. "You doubted me?"_

"_It's not that. I just couldn't believe that_ I_ was a witch! I didn't think I was special enough."_

_Sirius frowned and set her down. "Don't ever say that again," he commanded._

_Mandy giggled. "Alright. Mum and Dad thought it was a joke when Professor McGonagall first came. When they were finally convinced, they both sat me down and told me how sorry they were for not believing me. I told them it was ok."_

"_See? Who's nutty, _now_?"_

_Mandy giggled. "I can't believe I'm actually going to Hogwarts! I was so sad when I thought about you leaving me."_

"_Well, now you're coming with me," Sirius said, slinging his arm around her shoulders. He dropped his voice to a whisper. "To be honest? I was kind of sad to leave you, too."_

_Amanda took his hand from around her shoulder. "You were? Oh, how sweet!"_

"_Shut up," he mumbled, going slightly pink in the cheeks, but smiling all the same._

_Amanda laughed and collapsed, spread-eagled, on the grass. She gazed up at the bright blue sky, and smiled at Sirius when he lay down next to her. _

_It was one of the happiest moments of her eleven year long life._

**A/N:** So, what do you think so far?

The next chapter will be part two of the prologue, which will consist of Amanda and Sirius at Hogwarts leading up to the middle of their third year, where some drama takes place. After that, the majority of the story will be set in their seventh year. Anyway, do you think it's good enough to continue? Please REVIEW!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Squid


	2. Prologue II

**You're an Idiot, Sirius Black**

**A/N: **So here I am! Part two of the Prologue. Woo-hoo!

**Please Read: **I tried to be as canon as possible, but there is a part at the end of this chapter that takes place in Mandy and Sirius' third year, but it is not supposed to happen until their fifth year. I would appreciate it EXTREMELY if we could all just ignore that little fact for what I hope is a semi-entertaining story. Thank you!

**Disclaimer:** Ain't mine! Sorry to disappoint.

**Prologue II **

_**September 1**__**st**__**, 1971 Platform 9 ¾ **_

_The sheer wonder of it all rendered Amanda speechless. She just stood there, open-mouthed, after coming through what had appeared to be a fairly solid wall. The sounds of owls hooting and cats meowing filled the air. Kids ran amok and parents kissed their children goodbye. The scarlet steam engine glistened in the light. It was chaos . . . and it was beautiful._

"_Boo!"_

_Amanda yelped and spun around. She beamed at the familiar face before throwing her arms around him. _

"_Sirius!" she cried. "It's so great to see _something_ I know!"_

_Sirius laughed and pulled back. He looked at the three people around her expectantly._

"_Oh, oh right, sorry! Mum, Dad, Henry, this is my," she smirked, "_imaginary_ friend, Sirius Black." She laughed at the dumbstruck expressions on her parents' faces. "Sirius, this is my father, Christopher," she nodded to a tall, bald man, "my mother, Sophia," she indicated a pretty woman with auburn, curly hair, "and my baby brother, Henry." Lastly, she placed her hand on the shoulder of a small toddler with auburn hair clutching the woman's hand._

_Sirius shook hands with the man and woman and gave a friendly smile to the three-year-old._

"_I better run," Sirius said at last. "It's only a matter of time before my parents realize I'm gone. I'll save a seat for you on the train, ok?" He squeezed her hand once before disappearing into the mass of people. Mandy smiled after him. She turned to see her mother smirking at her._

"_What?" she asked._

_Sophia's smirk grew._

"_Oh, be quiet," Amanda snapped before leading her dazed family closer to the train. _

_**September 1**__**st**__**, 1971 The Hogwarts Express**_

_Amanda forced her way down the bustling corridor, not in her robes yet, but already dressed in the rest of her uniform: a pleated skirt, a white, collared blouse, and a dark grey jumper. She was searching for Sirius and wished she would find him soon, for saying a weepy goodbye to her family had left her feeling oddly lonely. _

_She neared the final compartment and was startled when a pretty, red haired, green eyed girl and a dirty looking boy with black, greasy hair came storming out of it, knocking her down._

"_Oh, I'm sorry," the redhead said, helping Amanda up. Mandy noticed the girl's eyes were swollen and glassy – she had been crying. "I wasn't watching where I was going."_

"_Oh, no, it's alright," Amanda said. Seeing the girl was nearly on the verge of tears again, she introduced herself brightly. "I'm Amanda. But you can call me Mandy."_

"_Lily Evans," the girl smiled. "And this is my best friend, Severus Snape." The greasy haired boy seemed happy at being introduced as her "best friend." _

"_Well, it's nice to meet you both. I was just looking for my friend." Mandy made her way to the compartment._

"_I doubt your friend's in _there_!" Lily called. "Someone as decent seeming as you would hardly have a friend as horrible as one of those boys!"_

_Amanda grinned at her. "Thanks. I'll check just to be sure."_

_Lily shrugged and walked away, Severus following. Sure enough, when Amanda peered into the compartment, she saw a group of rowdy boys including Sirius. Huh. There must have been a misunderstanding. Sirius wasn't horrible._

_She slid open the door and walked inside. The group went abruptly silent, causing her to feel very self-conscious._

"_Erm . . . hi," she mumbled tentatively. "I'm –"_

"_This is my friend Amanda," Sirius cut in. "She's cool."_

_The boys immediately went back to what they had been doing before (which, at the moment, seemed to be giggling over a provocative magazine Amanda was certain should not be in their possession), except for Sirius, who hopped over to help her heave her trunk up. _

"_Thanks, Siri," Amanda said gratefully after the deed was done._

_There was a snort of laughter. _

"_Siri?" a boy with chaotic black hair, hazel eyes, and rectangular glasses asked, effectively silencing his friends. "That's cute."_

_Sirius's cheeks heated. "Shut up."_

"_A bit defensive, are we?" the bespectacled boy laughed._

_Sirius scowled, grabbed Amanda's upper arm, and dragged her out of the compartment. When he had slid the door shut, he wheeled on her._

"_What?" she asked innocently._

"_I don't think you should use that nickname anymore," he said gravely._

"_Siri? Why?"_

"_Because, as I have told you _somany_ times before, it's a _girl's_ name!"_

_Amanda crossed her arms. "Not necessarily. I mean, if you give a boy a girl's name it becomes a boy's name, too."_

"_Well, it's humiliating."_

"_Then it will be good for you! It'll toughen you up. It's not healthy to care too much about what others say, anyway."_

_Sirius raised his eyebrows. "It's impossible to have an answer for everything, you know."_

_She smirked. "Try me."_

_He let a reluctant smile rise to his lips. "Are you always so stubborn?"_

"_Why, of course! Being friends with Sirius Black does that to you."_

_She knew from the moment he rolled his eyes that she had prevailed. It would be one of the last times she ever did._

_**September 1**__**st**__**, 1971 The Great Hall**_

"_GRYFFINDOR!"_

_Silence rang throughout the Great Hall. Everyone was in shock, it seemed. Sirius pulled the hat off his head, eyes flickering to the table on the far right, the one occupied by students clad in silver and green. The majority of them looked just plain stunned, but a few seemed murderous._

_Amanda vaguely remembered Sirius telling her about the four houses of Hogwarts. She was fairly certain he had said his whole family was made up of Slytherins. _

_Sirius stood up and, with his shoulders back and head held high, made his way to the table on the far left. Amanda had to admire his spirit._

_She took a deep breath and shouted, "GOOD JOB SIRIUS, WOO-HOO!" whilst applauding and jumping. Her noise seemed to bring the rest of the school out of its reverie. The Gryffindor table applauded him as the other students erupted into whispers. He cast her a grateful smile and the Sorting Ceremony continued._

_Amanda waited as several others were sorted, including the redhead from the train. She grew more nervous with each name called. What if she was sorted into a different house than Sirius? Would she make friends? Would she be treated differently because of her parentage? What if . . . ? _

"_Johnston, Amanda!"_

_Mandy jumped slightly as her thoughts were interrupted. She then scuttled over to the stool and allowed the hat to fall over her eyes._

"_Let's see, let's see." A small voice sounded inside her mind, causing her to start. "Plenty of kindness, yes. And forgiveness, too! Difficult for you to hold grudges, is it? Hufflepuff might be best . . . but wait! What's this I sense? Below your timid, sweet demeanor lies an undercurrent. You may not feel it, but it is there! Yes, I know just where to put you . . . GRYFFINDOR!!"_

_**March 10**__**th**__**, 1972**_

_Overtime, Sirius and Amanda slowly grew apart. They were still rather close, but they developed lives outside of each other. Amanda, for instance, acquired friendships with her dorm mates: Lily, Alice, Marlene, and Mary. Sirius became good friends with his three dorm mates, too, especially James Potter. Mandy was fine with it. He was allowed to have other friends. But sometimes Sirius, mainly when in the company of his new friends (though not always), tested her patience . . . . _

_Amanda was sitting in between Lily and Alice, and across from Marlene and Mary at the Gryffindor table, while they ate dinner. Lily was ranting about James Potter again, something she had taken a liking to due to his hatred for Severus Snape and fondness for annoying her. _

"_I don't understand why he's so well liked!" she was saying. "He's just another first-year, what's so special about him?"_

"_He's funny, I guess," Alice said._

"_And charming," sighed Marlene._

"_Charming?" Lily scoffed. "He's the most annoying person on the planet!"_

"_I reckon he has a crush on you," Mary said. The other girls stared at her. "What? My mother says that when boys are young and immature they express their feelings for girls by annoying them so the girl will give them attention!"_

"_That's ridiculous," Marlene giggled. "Although it would explain a lot." She wiggled her eyebrows at Lily._

_Amanda sighed. She had a History of Magic essay to complete that was due Monday and she really wanted the weekend free. Plus, one could only endure talk of James Potter for so long._

"_I'm going back to the common room," she muttered to Alice. "See you in a bit."_

_Alice nodded and continued eating._

"_It doesn't matter if it explains anything," Lily was saying. "I refuse to believe that Potter has a crush on – MANDY, LOOK OUT!"_

_Amanda, who stood up suddenly to leave, was startled by Lily's exclamation. She turned quickly to see what the other girl was screaming about and was met with a blast of water right in the chest. Looking past the water, she saw a horrified Sirius lowering his wand. She looked down at her soaked blouse, which was, to her terror, white. It was now see through and the entire world could gaze upon what was underneath it. _

_The whole school was staring at her so she did the first thing that came to mind. She fled._

_Amanda ran as fast as she could to the Gryffindor tower, but she could hear someone's rushed feet gaining on her. She didn't want to talk to anyone at the moment, though, least of all the person she guessed those footsteps belonged to._

"_Mandy! Amanda!" Yes, she _definitely_ did not want to talk to that voice. She ran a little harder._

_The footsteps grew louder, but were abruptly cut off. Amanda hesitated, listening. When she thought she was safe, she bent over, breathing heavily and clutching a stitch in her side. All of a sudden, a portrait near her flew open, revealing a hole in the wall. A boy lunged out, grabbed her around the middle, and hauled her into the hole. The portrait swung shut so she was effectively trapped in a dark, narrow hallway._

_Amanda looked up at the boy and, to her dismay, saw it was Sirius, breathing like he had just run a marathon. When, she decided it was no use trying to escape, she stared up at him coldly, making it a point to cross her arms over her chest. _

_He rolled his eyes. "Oh, don't be so modest, Mandy. I saw your training bra just now like every other person in the Great Hall."_

_Amanda blushed. "It's _not_ a training bra," she said in indignation. "It's a _sports_ bra."_

_Sirius furrowed his brow in confusion. "Who wears a sports bra? I thought girls only wore those lacy things they show in magazines."_

_Mandy made a noise of disgust and turned on her heel, walking quickly down the hallway even though she had no idea where it led. "Pig," she muttered._

"_Oh, come on, Amanda!" Sirius cried, racing after her. He grabbed her elbow and spun her around. "It was a joke!"_

_She looked at him in glacial fury and he sighed._

"_Listen, I didn't mean to hit you with the water. I was aiming over your head at Evans, and wasn't expecting you to stand up."_

"_Oh, so you were planning on humiliating one of my friends?" Mandy scoffed. "Yes, that's _much_ better." She tried to walk away again, but he maintained a firm grip on her elbow._

"_You're not going to stay mad at me forever, are you?" he asked, allowing a slight pout to his lips. "It was just a bit of water."_

"_Well, because of that 'bit of water' the whole school got a look inside my shirt!"_

"_And they didn't see anything except a training bra." He cleared his throat. "Excuse me, a _sports_ bra." _

_She downcast her eyes and mumbled, "Well, just because _one_ of us has a shred of self-preservation and doesn't walk around shirtless all the time . . ."_

_He chuckled, but then sighed. Putting two fingers under her chin, he pushed her head up so her eyes were looking into his. _

"_It was an accident, Amanda," he whispered. "Please understand. I would never, ever hurt you on purpose."_

_She gazed deep into his stormy grey eyes and found her resolve slipping. She sighed. _

"_I'm trying to be mad at you," she pouted. "Why do you have to sound so bleeding sincere?"_

_He laughed and hugged her, knowing she had forgiven him. Then he grimaced and pulled back._

"_Maybe we shouldn't hug right now," he said. "You're kind of wet."_

"_Oh, yes," she giggled, "because that's _entirely_ my fault!" And, together, they made their way to Gryffindor tower._

_**May 20**__**th**__**, 1972**_

_Sirius had promised he would never hurt Amanda on purpose. But there were many times he would do it on accident . . . _

"_So when the girls wake up this morning, they'll never know what hit them!"_

_James Potter looked around expectantly at his three best friends. Peter nodded his head vigorously, Remus looked apprehensive, and Sirius looked deep in thought._

"_Well?"_

"_I don't know, James," Remus said. "This seems a bit cruel . . ."_

"_Oh don't be such a killjoy, Remy," James whined. "No one will get hurt!"_

"_But how do you know, James?"_

_James decided to avoid the question. "Peter likes the idea, don't you, Pete?" _

"_Oh, yeah!"_

"_See?" James looked triumphant. "And what do you think, Sirius?"_

_Sirius bit his lip. "I dunno . . ."_

"_Oh, come on!" James groaned. "I expected Reem to be a spoilsport, but you?"_

"_Normally I would be all for it, but . . . I just . . . I have the feeling I'm missing something . . . something important. I have the feeling this might not turn out well."_

"_Oh, please, how bad could it be?" James asked with a grin._

_**May 21**__**st**__**, 1972**_

_Sirius rushed to the hospital wing to see if what Lily Evans had said was true. If it was, Mandy was going to _kill_ him . . . ._

_He flung open the door and gasped when he saw the bed directly across from him. Oh, no. _Oh, no_ . . . ._

_Amanda glanced lazily up from the book she was reading and sighed. "Please tell me you had nothing to do with this."_

"_Oh, Mandy," he moaned, walking to her side. Taking that as confirmation, she groaned and snapped her book shut._

"_How could you do this, Siri? You _know_ I'm allergic."_

"_I --- I forgot ---"_

"_Forgot? What possibly could have given you the right to forget?"_

"_James --- James said no one would get hurt ---"_

_Mandy threw her hands up in indignation. "Oh, of course! Whatever precious _James_ says goes, now, doesn't it?" _

"_Leave James out of this," Sirius growled._

"_Why should I?" Amanda challenged. "Do you know what bee stings do to me, Sirius? They close up my throat so I can't breathe. It's terrifying. And I _told_ you I was allergic!"_

"_What does it matter, anyway? The nurse fixed you up faster than the Muggles would have! You're just staying here for trauma. No harm, no foul, right?" Sirius tried to reason._

"_It's the principle of the thing, Siri," she said softly. "It's the fact that you _knew_ and you still did it." _

_Sirius sighed and sat on the chair next to her bed, taking her hand. "You're right; it was wrong. And I'm sorry."_

_Amanda downcast her eyes._

"_I love being your friend, Mandy," he whispered. "Please don't stay mad at me."_

_Suddenly, the words "Difficult for you to hold grudges, is it?" flashed in her mind. She raised her eyes to Sirius' and was hopelessly lost._

"_If only I could," she muttered. "If only I could."_

_**April 8**__**th**__**, 1973**_

_The "Marauders," as they had now started calling themselves, walked into the common room, laughing at a prank they had just pulled. They stopped short, however, at the sight of the figure on the sofa, shaking from suppressed tears. Remus and James exchanged meaningful glances and walked up to their dormitory, dragging a rather confused Peter along with them._

_Sirius went and sat next to the Amanda, who was holding an open book and a crumpled up piece of paper. She glanced at him and hurriedly tried to hide the book, whilst wiping away her tears. His reflexes were fast, however, and he grabbed the book._

"_Cancer?" he asked, furrowing his brow._

"_Um, yes," Mandy said with a slight hiccup. "It's, er --- it's a disease. It's prone to Muggles, but Wizards get it from time to time, too. Muggles don't have a cure for it, so I was just seeing if Wizards might."_

"_And do they?"_

_She shook her head sadly. "Not one that I can find, anyway."_

_There was silence for a moment before Sirius remarked, "You weren't in classes today."_

"_Er, no. Professor Dumbledore said --- he said I could have the day off." She swallowed. "He's very kind."_

_Sirius nodded and wiped a fresh tear from her cheek. "What's wrong, Amanda?" he asked._

_She gulped and shoved the piece of paper into his hand. He read it over and looked up at her thorough sorrowful eyes._

"_Oh, Mandy . . ."_

"_People _die _from cancer, Sirius! And he has it. I'm not ready for my daddy to leave me, Sirius. I'm not brave enough to face life without him."_

"_Don't say that," he whispered, cradling her in his arms. "You were sorted into Gryffindor, weren't you?"_

"_But what if the Sorting Hat made a mistake?" she whispered and he could tell the thought truly scared her. "It said I had the kindness and forgiveness of a Hufflepuff. I'm obviously meant to be there. I've never been brave in my life."_

"_That's not true," Sirius whispered, stroking her hair. "Right now, you're the bravest person I know."_

_**October 22**__**nd**__**, 1973**_

_Amanda hurried down a deserted corridor looking for a place to hide from a group of Slytherin sixth-years who had taken an interest in bullying her. She flung open the door to a broom cupboard and . . . _

"_WHAT THE HECK DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING?" she shouted at Sirius who was tightly wrapped around a girl and might have been sucking her face off. _

_Sirius and the girl broke apart and looked at Amanda. The girl, who was a Ravenclaw, smirked smugly as she straightened her brown hair. Sirius, at least, had the decency to look embarrassed._

"_Mandy!" he cried jovially. "It's so nice to ---"_

"_You have lipstick on your face."_

_Sirius laughed slightly, though it had a bit of a hysterical undertone, and rubbed his face._

_Amanda rolled her eyes and turned to the Ravenclaw. "Do you mind if I borrow your ---" she eyed Sirius with distaste "---_ friend_ for a moment?" Before the girl could respond, she grabbed Sirius by the hair and dragged him out into the corridor._

"_Anything but the hair, Mandy," he moaned, as she let go of him. "Or the face, for that matter. Or the groi ---"_

"_What's wrong with you?" she asked, crossing her arms._

"_Nothing! I was simply . . . embracing puberty."_

"_Well, you're far too young to start '_embracing puberty_'!"_

"_I'm thirteen, fourteen in two months. And we weren't doing anything other than snogging. Who do you think you are, my mother?"_

_Mandy continued as if he had said nothing. "I mean I understand _attraction_ to the opposite sex at this age, but to go and --- What's so funny?" _

_Sirius suddenly seemed incredibly amused and had to bite his lip to keep from laughing. He cracked a suave smile, took her hand and leaned closer to her, far too close in her opinion. Then, when his hot breath tickled her ear making her shiver, he whispered, "You said sex!" He snorted one last time before sprinting in the opposite direction_

_Amanda's jaw dropped. "That is stupid and completely immature!" she shouted, though she couldn't help but giggle as she took off after him._

_**May 4**__**th**__**, 1974**_

_It was absurd. Completely impossible and absurd. She _knew_ Sirius. Sure, he would play harmless pranks on people from time to time, but he'd never intentionally set out to hurt someone. The bee incident had been a onetime thing._

Then why, oh why, is _everyone_ talking about this? _She questioned._

_The rumor had spread like wildfire. That Sirius Black had almost killed Severus Snape with a prank, and James Potter had saved the day. And rumors at Hogwarts had a tendency to be born from truth._

_But Sirius knew boundaries. He knew when to draw the line. He knew what was good fun and he knew what was just plain wrong. That knowledge was what always separated him from his cruel family._

_All of a sudden, while lost in her thoughts, Amanda walked into something and fell back on the floor. Looking up, she saw the pretty face of the seventh-year Slytherin, Narcissa Black, and one of her snobby friends._

"_Watch where you're going!" Narcissa spat, as she and her friend stood up. She gave Amanda one last dirty glare before stalking away._

_Mandy could hear the pale, blonde girl say in a raised voice to her friend, "Yes, that's Amanda Johnston. Typical Mudblood; doesn't have a mind that can think for itself. My blood-traitor of a cousin walks all over her and she always runs back to him, begging for more."_

_Amanda felt tears sting her eyes as she stood. Did she really let Sirius walk all over her? Sure, she had forgiven him for a not-so-nice prank he had pulled on more than one occasion, but did that mean she couldn't think for herself?_

Focus on what's important, Amanda, _she reminded herself. _

_Mandy shook her head and ran the rest of the way to Gryffindor tower. When she climbed through the portrait hole, she had an immediate view of the Marauders. They were sitting on a sofa by the fire, laughing. Sirius, who was slightly pink in the cheeks but laughing too, appeared to be the object of the other three's amusement. _

_He looked so carefree, so happy, that Amanda suddenly doubted a confrontation was a good idea. Maybe this just wasn't her place to meddle. Maybe she should just forget about it . . . _

_No. She had to know. She had to know if this was all a big misunderstanding or if her best friend really was a potential murderer. Years from now, she did not want to wonder. She had to know._

_She took a deep breath and felt fear wash over her because of the knowledge she was about to gain. But what else was knew? She spent many of her moments being afraid nowadays. _

_Before she could chicken out, she walked over, stood in front of Sirius, and assumed a no-nonsense position. She vaguely noticed him quickly hiding a flashy card of some sort before she said, "We need to talk."_

_Sirius smiled at her and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "Yeah?"_

"_In _private_," she hissed through gritted teeth. _

_James snorted and Sirius elbowed him in the stomach. "Yeah, sure," he said, standing up. "Lead the way."_

_Mandy led him through the portrait hole. When they were out, she hesitated, her back to him, unsure of how to begin. So she decided to go for a straight-forward approach. _

"_Is it true you tried to kill Severus Snape?"_

_Sirius didn't answer, so she turned slowly around. His face and body were no longer warm and happy, but guarded and cold._

"_What makes you ask that?" he finally asked._

_Amanda gulped. "I --- I've been hearing rumors ---"_

"_You shouldn't listen to everything you hear."_

"_Well, _you _are avoiding the question." _

_Sirius regarded her through cold eyes. When she thought he was not going to give a straight answer, he said, "I didn't try to kill Severus Snape." Amanda felt relief wash over her. "I merely gave him information that he _chose_ to use in a dangerous way." _

_Her heart stopped. "What _kind_ of information?"_

"_How to get into the Shrieking Shack."_

_Mandy's jaw dropped. "What? How could you have done that? You _know_ he practically obsesses over that place!"_

_Sirius sneered, an expression she didn't see on him often. "He had it coming to him; sticking his big nose into places it didn't belong ---"_

"_Do you even hear yourself?" Mandy cried. She couldn't believe what he was saying. How could he be so cruel?_

"_Listen," she began again, taking a few steps closer to him. "I don't know what's in the Shrieking Shack, but I have a feeling you do. And that's fine; everyone's entitled to secrets! But whatever it is, it's dangerous. And it could have really hurt him. No matter what he's done, he doesn't deserve ---"_

_Sirius seemed to be fuming, and she had no idea why. "Oh, sure, defend the slimy git! While you're at it, why don't you form a fan club? I'm sure Evans would join!"_

"_What does Lily have to do with any of this?"_

_With every second, Sirius seemed to grow angrier. "Well, we're talking about Snivellus, aren't we? And the two _are_ sort of a package deal."_

"_Listen to yourself!" Amanda cried. "You're not making any sense! What does any of this have to do with ---?"_

"I'm_ not making sense?" Sirius shouted. "You're the one who ---"_

"_Calm down, Sirius! Just _calm down_! Take a moment to think things through. You're being a hot-headed idi ---"_

"_You know, hot-headedness is the trademark of a Gryffindor. Something, _you're_ obviously not!"_

_The world seemed to stop. Amanda looked up at Sirius and saw a flash of regret in his eyes. But it was too late. The words had been said, the deed done._

"_Wow, Sirius," she whispered, slowly strolling closer to him. "Wow."_

_He was gazing at the floor, mouth slightly ajar, as if he, too, could not believe what he had just said. Deep down, Mandy knew he did not mean it, that those words had been uttered in his anger, even if she had no idea _why_ he was so angry. But it suddenly did not matter to her. She wanted to make him hurt, too._

"_I told you how much not being a Gryffindor scares me in confidence. Because I trusted you. Only a --- a --- a _Slytherin_ would use that piece of information to deliberately make me hurt, wouldn't you say?"_

_Sirius gasped._

"_Yes, I know what scares you, too," Amanda said. "But I would have never used it against you. It's such a Slytherin thing to do. But once a Black always a Black, I suppose." She laughed lightly, even though her heart ached from being so mean to her first best friend._

_He looked up at her and his gray eyes met her blue. It was then that she knew she had to end it. That if their friendship carried on, she would get her heart broke numerous amounts of times. And she accepted it. It was the cost one had to pay to have any sort of relationship with Sirius Black. _

"_You know, Sirius," she said, never breaking eye contact, "the Sorting Hat may have considered putting me in Hufflepuff, but not once did it consider Slytherin. So maybe we're just . . . _too_ different."_

"_What are you saying?" His voice was barely louder than a whisper._

"_I'm saying I'm done." She thought back on Narcissa Black's words. "And I mean it this time."_

_Sirius studied her for a long moment, hurt clear in his eyes. "Fine," he whispered at last. "FINE!" He stomped angrily to the portrait hole and muttered the password, but hesitated before climbing through. _

"_Happy birthday, Mandy," he said. "I hope it's a good one." And he was gone._

_Amanda gaped in shock at the portrait of the Fat Lady. In all her emotional turmoil, she forgot that tomorrow was her fourteenth birthday. _

Some birthday, _she thought dully._

_She collapsed against the wall, her head in her hands, too shocked and horrified at what had just happened to leak any tears. But she would cry later, oh would she cry. She'd cry for the loss of a life she had known for so long, she'd cry for the terrible and malicious things she had said, but most of all, she would cry because her friendship with Sirius Black was _officially_ over._

**A/N: **So what did you think? Sorry if I bored you; if I didn't, great! Next chapter we say goodbye to italics, woo-hoo!!!!!!! I will be eternally thankful to reviewers so . . . PLEASE REVIEW!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Thanks!


	3. Detentions are for Troubled Kids

**You're an Idiot, Sirius Black**

**A/N: **Sorry, this chapter is quite slow, in my opinion. It's only real purpose is to show where Mandy's life stands at the moment, which I felt was important because I don't like feeling rushed into a story when you don't understand the character.

Thank you to all reviewers! I appreciate and love you so much!

**Disclaimer: **I only own Amanda. Well, I don't even technically own her since she lives in a universe J.K. Rowling created. So I only own Amanda's non-magic related _thoughts_. Harsh.

**Ch. 1 Detentions Are for Troubled Kids**

I sat on the edge of my father's bed, holding his hand and stroking it with my thumb. He looked horribly exhausted and sick, having just finished another of his extensive treatments, which usually had this affect on him. But it didn't bother me too much. He was alive; the doctors must have been doing something right.

"You're so . . . _beautiful_," he whispered in a frail voice. "Absolutely stunning."

I glanced at my reflection in the dark screen of the television. My blonde curls were up in their usual ponytail, dark green sweatshirt and jeans tattered, cheeks slightly washed out, and blue eyes far too tired for a seventeen year old. I hardly qualified as healthy, let alone beautiful.

"Thank you," I smiled at him.

He smiled back and I briefly marveled at how a person so horribly sick could have such a brilliant, lively smile. "I feel terrible that your last memory of me until you come home for Christmas will be this." He gestured helplessly around himself.

"Don't feel that way," I gently chastised. "I will always remember you playing football with Henry and me, and sneaking us sweets before dinner, and carrying me down on your shoulders Christmas morning. I'll remember how you would always let me give you makeovers and how you'd sneak food under the table to give to the dog. That's what I'll remember."

He smiled, lost in fond recollections. "Remember the way I'd sing 'Silent Night' to you every Christmas Eve to get you to fall asleep because you were always so excited?"

Tears threatened to obscure my vision of him. "How could I forget?"

He laughed throatily and began to sing:

"_Silent Night._

_Holy Night._

_All is calm._

_All is_ – Oh, don't cry, Mandy, love!"

"Sorry," I mumbled, hastily wiping a tear off my cheek before another felt obligated to join it. "I'm just gonna miss you a lot."

He pulled me in for one of his huge bear hugs, the type of hug that no trivial _disease_ could ever rid. "Don't worry," he murmured into my hair. "I will always be with you. No matter what."

"I love you, Daddy," I whispered and, unable to hang on any longer, the tears fell. "So much."

"I love you, too, my darling. More than life itself."

I laughed slightly and pulled back. "I know. But try to love life a little, too, ok? I don't want you losing it anytime soon."

He chuckled good-naturedly. "All right, I'll keep that in mind. You should go now. Before you _somehow_ find a way to be late."

Well, he'd got me spot on. I leaned down and kissed his cheek.

"I love you," I whispered one last time.

"I love you more. Now go do some magic for me."

I smiled and walked to his bedroom door, wiping away the tears. When I reached it, I couldn't help but look back at him, even through it would probably make leaving all the more difficult.

"Love you," I repeated.

"Love you, too."

I finally managed to tear myself away from his room, even though every fiber of my being was screaming against it. For all I knew, this was the last time I would see him alive.

Heaving a huge sigh, I walked down the stairs in my house to the front door, where my fatigued looking mother and nine-year-old brother were waiting for me. Tears fell silently down her cheeks as she gave me a strained, watery smile. Before I knew it, her arms had engulfed me, and she was bawling into my shoulder.

"My Mandy," she sobbed. "My angel, my baby. I'm going to miss you so much."

"I won't be gone for long," I whispered, hugging her tighter as if that would somehow heal my own heartache. "Just a few months."

"I know, but . . . it's your last year! My baby is going to her last year of school! You're growing up on me and I can't say I like it."

"I don't like it all that much, either," I admitted.

She chuckled and pulled back. "I'm sorry," she blubbered, not bothering to clean her face of the salty tears. "I'm making you act like the mother again, aren't I?"

I shook my head rapidly in a futile attempt to distill her negativity. My mum was incredible, but she often had to take care of so much that she forgot to take care of herself, a job I tended to feel fell upon me.

"You're acting like I want my mother to act when I'm going away. It would be far worse if you didn't care."

She beamed (a messy, rather tragic beam, but a beam nonetheless) and embraced me again. "You always knew what to say, Amanda. I love you so much."

Gradually I relaxed into her arms. It felt so _good_ to just have her hold me – almost like I was a little girl again. I missed those days, when my mother was the life of the party, when my dad was up and running, and when the worst disease on my agenda was cooties.

"I love you, too, Mum. I'm gonna miss you."

Pulling back once again, she cleared her throat in no-nonsense sort of way, trying (and failing) to frown sternly. "Now study hard, you hear? And be smart with what you do with boys. All it takes is one time to –"

"_Mum!_" Henry and I exclaimed in unison.

She looked at us both and laughed. "Right, sorry. I just love you."

"I know." Grinning, I moved slowly and frighteningly toward Henry.

"No, don't –" He grimaced as I hugged him and planted a large, wet kiss on his cheek.

"That's disgusting, Mandy," he said, wiping it away, but smiling all the same.

"I love you, Squirt. See you at Christmas."

I allowed my mum one last hug and kiss before magically summoning my trunk down from my room (I _loved_ being able to do magic over holidays!), earning an "Oh, God," from my mother and a "Wicked!" from Henry. With one final glance around the house I called my own, I headed out into the brisk, autumn's day.

"Don't be late!" my mother called after me.

Glancing over my shoulder, I placed a hand to my chest and mouthed, _Who, me? _She laughed before waving jauntily and shutting the door.

I sighed and turned back, heading in the direction of the Underground, and feeling like I usually did nowadays: sad, tired, and alone.

-X-

You'd think after six years of experiencing it, Platform 9 ¾ would awe me a little less. Well, you would be wrong. Every time I walked through the seemingly solid barrier, the sights, the noises, even the _smells_ would hit me with the force of a brick wall, leaving me winded in their wake. A ginger cat ran in between my legs, two youngsters chasing after it. A tawny owl flew around my head. Steam billowed out of the scarlet engine. A family of four chatted merrily nearby.

I briefly allowed my eyes to flicker shut and a memory to take over. A family of four . . . awestruck parents . . . a black haired boy . . . .

"MANDY!"

My eyes snapped back open and I was startled to feel slight wetness on my cheeks, though I hurriedly scrubbed it away. Part of me was disappointed to be interrupted from my fantasy, (it was such a nice memory . . .) but the other, more rational part of me reminded that wallowing in the good ol' days would only cause me pain.

Suddenly, there was a flurry of red and I was being squeezed to death. Choking out a horrid noise somewhere between a laugh and gag, I staggered backward.

"Good to see you, too, Lils," I wheezed.

Lily laughed and stepped back, revealing her beautiful, beaming face and robe clad body.

"I didn't get a chance to talk to you at all this summer!" she squealed. "I know nothing of your life! How've you been? Is your dad getting any better? Oh, I got head girl! Are you the replacement prefect? Well, of course you are, why wouldn't you be? Oh, God, Amanda, you look horrible!" She said this all very fast.

I frowned, trying to sort through the muddle of her questions. "Well . . . I've been fine, tired, but fine. My dad's still hanging on. That's great; I knew you would! As a matter of fact, I _was_ made replacement prefect. And –" I fingered my ponytail self-consciously, "I don't think I look _that_ horrible."

Lily smiled sadly. "No, you just look exhausted." She glanced around the platform, jade eyes alight with happiness, hope, and excitement.

"Can you believe it, Mandy?" she asked, her voice barely audible. "It's our last year at Hogwarts. After we leave, we'll never see it again." She grinned suddenly. "Or perhaps we'll see it quite a lot. Life works out strangely sometimes. In ways we would never have expected." She was silent for a moment, rapt in her own contemplations, before she tugged on my hand and motioned toward the train. "Come with me. My parents will want to see you."

As she pulled me into the large mass of people, I recalled the memory that had been racing through my head only minutes before. It was from a different time, a different world, a different me. And I couldn't say I liked the differences.

But, as always, Lily was right. Life _did_ work out strangely sometimes and, sometimes, it hardly seemed fair. But perhaps we simply had to make the best of it.

-X-

"Be on _time_," Lily ordered after we had bid her parents goodbye and boarded the train. I had just told her I was going to change into my robes real quickly before the prefect meeting.

"Please," I said in response. "Punctuality is my middle name."

Turns out, Sophia is my only middle name and it should stay that way.

I was running down the corridor of the Hogwarts Express, one hand trying to knot my tie, the other attempting to fasten my prefect's badge. I honestly don't know why I was made prefect. I can't be on time to save my life.

Suddenly, I hit something hard and fell on my back.

"Ow," I moaned, rubbing my head and sitting up.

A little ways away I saw a boy with unruly black hair, seeing glasses, and hazel eyes on the floor, too, shaking his head as if to clear it. I knew him. It was impossible to go to Hogwarts and _not_ know him. I mean, he was leader of the infamous marauders _and_ Gryffindor Quidditch captain and star. Plus, being friends with Lily Evans made a person all too aware of who he was. I was always friendly toward him, but never friends with him. Especially after the _Incident_, as I liked to refer to it. After that, I began avoiding the Marauders like the plague, in hopes of severing all ties with the boy I had once considered to be my best friend.

I felt the tiniest pang of sadness ebb at my heart, but quickly brushed it away. Years ago, I had sworn that I would forget Black and the hurt he caused me. At first such a feat was difficult (he _was_ my closest friend), but slowly, with the help of my miracle worker mates, I moved on, although I could not control the slight sadness and even greater anger that I still managed to feel when thinking of him. Which is precisely why I should stop . . . now.

James Potter had halted his head shaking and was now staring inquisitively at me with what looked to be pure delight.

"Amanda Johnston?" he asked incredulously. "You still go to this school?"

I gaped at him, openmouthed. What was I supposed to say to that? I'd been in practically every one of his classes for _six_ _years_! _Six bloody years_!

He laughed at my dumbfounded expression. "Don't worry. I was only joking."

I shook my head. "Sorry," I muttered, beginning to stand. "For running into you and all." James hopped up quickly, startling me, and offered his hand, which I accepted after a moment's hesitation. I was ashamed to admit that James Potter always frightened me a bit; he was just so abounding with unequaled energy. He kind of reminded me of a puppy. Scratch that, he's far too tall and lean for a puppy. He's more like . . . a baby dear. Yes, that's it! James reminds me of Bambi!

"'Sorry for running into you and all?'" James repeated, beaming. "I think that's the first time you've spoken to me in over three years! This requires a celebration!"

I blinked. "Um, no. I think there was a time in fifth year when I said 'Pardon me; you're kind of in my way.' You were, erm, blocking the entrance to the girls' dormitory while waiting for Lily, I believe."

He furrowed his brow. "Did you really? Ah, well, can't remember. After so many years of pursuing Evans, all my ventures tend to blend into one, you know?"

I laughed slightly and James puffed out his chest in pleasure. Another trait James Potter possesses in abundance: cockiness. Every little triumph he somewhat attained was worthy of scaling Mount Everest.

"You know, this is nice," he said. "We should start talking again."

"Er – forgive me, but we never really _started_ talking."

James gasped, seemingly affronted. "We didn't? Well, we should! As I always say, 'any friend of Lily's is a friend of mine!' That is, you still are a friend of Lily's, right?"

I narrowed my eyes. Did he think Lily was too good for me? That, if she was sane, she would have chucked me by now? "Yes, of course. Why wouldn't I be?"

James shrugged. "I don't know . . . I just haven't exactly talked to you in a while. Which reminds me! You look . . ." he grimaced, as his eyes raked my body, "horrid. Have you gotten _any_ sleep in the past few weeks?"

I crossed my arms over my chest, scowling. "Yes," I huffed. I _had_ gotten sleep. Admittedly not much, but he didn't need to know that. "Now, as nice as this chat has been, Bambi, I must get going." I began to stalk away.

"What did you just call me?" he yelled after me.

I sighed exasperatedly and turned back around. "Bambi. You know, like the deer?" At his blank face, I rolled my eyes. "Never mind. Nice talking with you, _James_." I began to walk again, only for James to scurry after and fall into pace beside me. I frowned up at him, a bit irritated. Was this what Lily dealt with on a regular basis? Poor girl.

"Where are you in such a hurry to get to anyway?" he asked, smiling pleasantly down at me.

I exhaled heavily, figuring there was no point to lying. "The prefects' meeting. I'm late."

James beamed. "What a coincidence, so am I!"

"Oh, yes, that is a coinci –" I halted abruptly, turning on him, as his words sunk in. "Wait, what?"

He chuckled and gave a little bow. Arrogant git. "Hogwarts' new Head Boy at your service."

My eyes widened. "You – you – I –" I breathed in a deep, steadying breath. "Are you joking?" I finally managed.

James clutched his heart and shook his head sadly. "You words wound me, Johnston. Would I _joke_ about a matter like this? Plus, I have the badge to prove it." He tapped on a gleaming emblem pinned neatly to his chest, which I only now noticed. I eyed the glistening HB wearily.

"It looks authentic . . . did you nick it?"

"You act is if I _want_ to be an uptight, rule abiding prat."

I glanced up at him and smirked. "Well, Lily Evans _is_ Head Girl."

He sighed, gazing off into the distance. "One of the many perks of the job, miss."

I studied him for a moment. Either this was some odd prank or Dumbledore was off his rocker. Oh, well, I suppose James could have the benefit of the doubt this _once_.

I grinned and continued walking. "You won't think it's a perk when she realizes you're Head Boy. I think she was hoping for Casey Davies."

"That Ravenclaw pretty boy?" James scowled. "Why would she be hoping for _him_?"

I did not dignify that remark with a response, opting to roll my eyes. Boys.

When we entered the compartment, it was to see Lily standing and the many prefects sitting around her.

James blew out next to me. "Even more beautiful than I remembered," he sighed. Ok, I must admit that was kind of sweet. What? I'm a girl, sue me.

Lily turned, probably about to rebuke me, when her eyes landed on James.

"This meeting is for prefects and Heads _only_, Potter," she spat.

"Why, I know!" James replied. "I am a law-abiding student after all! Or at least that's what the letter said."

"What are you . . ." And then she noticed the badge. I, having been expecting her to blow up at the sight of it, was pleasantly surprised when she simply stared, slack jawed, apparently too stunned by this phenomenon to speak. After a few moments silent wonder, however, I began to grow worried for her wellbeing.

"Lily-flower," James sang, before I got the chance (not that I planned on addressing her as "Lily-Flower" or anything. I mean, _really_?), "I know my pecs are quite nice, but it's rude to stare."

I groaned, along with pretty much everyone else in the cabin.

Lily blushed furiously and straightened, her dignity rapidly returning. "_You_ are telling _me_, it's rude to stare? Well, isn't that the pot calling the cauldron black!"

James gasped in mock horror. "Miss Evans, please," he stage-whispered. "Regain your professional demeanor so we can go about this meeting like civilized adults, or I will be forced to report you!"

I absently examined Lily, whose face now vaguely resembled a tomato, and came to the verdict that I would be let off for my tardiness. Chuckling at my fortune, I took a seat and considered how interesting a year with James Potter and Lily Evans as Head Boy and Girl was going to be.

If only I had an idea.

-X-

"Honestly, what right does he have to just prance on in and declare himself head boy?"

"No right," I murmured assent.

"No right, I tell you! No right!"

Suddenly, the door to a compartment we were about to pass slid open and out walked a tall, curvaceous girl, with long, chocolate colored hair and eyes to match, effectively halting Lily and I. Inwardly, I thanked the girl, not being able to handle Lily's rant any longer.

"Oh, Lily darling," she drawled, flashing us a bright, magically whitened smile. "I thought I heard you voice!"

"Marlene!" Lily and I both cried, taking turns in hugging one of our best friends and dorm mates.

"Yes, yes, hello," Marlene said, hugging us back. She pulled away. "Lily, you look lovely as ever and Mandy . . . well, you look down right terrible!"

I folded my arms over my chest. "Why does everyone keep saying that?"

She smirked. "Maybe because it's true? Come on." She pulled us back into her compartment where two others sat waiting. "Hey Al, Mare! Look what the niffler dragged in!"

A slight, yet strong girl, with spiky, sandy brown hair, blue eyes, and an open, round face, looked up from the Bertie Botts' Every Flavor Beans she was munching on with a grin. "Well, if it isn't Gryffindor's very own best behaved seventh years!"

"That's not true," I admonished, shoving Alice's feet off of the seat across from her so I could take it. Hey, she did not _need_ two seats; that would be greed. Once I sat down, however, she replaced her feet on my lap. "Mary's well-behaved enough."

I turned to Mary, sitting near the window, playing with her camera. Her honey blonde hair cascaded over her face, but she raised her milky brown eyes at the sound of her name.

"But I don't do that well in school," she pointed out in her distinguishing soft voice before going back to whatever it was she was doing.

I smiled and looked to Marlene, who was chortling at some witty remark of Lily's.

"Honestly, Mar," I said, shielding my eyes. "If you whiten your teeth any more, I'm going to have to start wearing sunglasses around you."

She laughed and stuck her tongue out at me. "Well, you better get a pair of strong ones, because the whitening has only begun."

"So, has Frank come to his senses, yet?" Lily was asking Alice.

Alice pretended to become offended and playfully tossed a few jelly beans at her. Frank Longbottom, who was a year older than us, was Alice's boyfriend of three years. We teased her about him, but it was so obvious that they were completely made for each other.

I looked to Mary again, who was tweaking something on her camera, her brow furrowed and h tongue poking out between her teeth in concentration. She nodded slightly to herself at the brilliant mistake she just remedied before bringing the camera up and snapping a shot of Lily just as the redhead was pelted with another set of jelly beans (courtesy of Alice, again).

We were an odd group, really. At first glimpse, we seemed to have nothing in common, but I knew better. Each of us was much more than what met the eye.

Marlene, for example, was one of the coolest, sleaziest, most confident girls in all of Hogwarts. You'd never even guess, if you didn't know her, that she was deathly afraid of commitment (made sense, I suppose), or that her life's ambition was to be an Auror.

Alice, on the other hand, was the epitome of tomboy, relishing athletics and violence (the, er, good kind?). But, while she acted rough and tough, she was truly just a big softy with a burning love for her friends and boyfriend.

Mary appeared shy, soft-spoken, and afraid of her own shadow (the latter only after what that thug Mulciber did to her). But that girl saw the world like no other, a quality that often shone through her incredibly unique and stunning photographs.

Lily acted lofty, opinionated, and uptight. She played her part quite well; I believed that was her true self for some while. Then, in fifth year, after her little fiasco with Severus Snape, I found we had much more in common than I originally thought. I strove to unearth the Lily Evans that hid beneath the surface and I found she was quite unsure of herself and where her life was going. Plus, she was much more fun than she let on.

And then, of course, there was me. Enough said.

I allowed a huge smile to spread across my lips as I leaned my head back on the plushy seat cushion. Yes, we really were quite odd. But, to be perfectly honest, I wouldn't have had it any other way.

-X-

The feast was nothing special. The first years were sorted, of course. I remembered my own Sorting, and the usual sadness gripped my heart. Then the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher – Professor Dorcas Meadowes, a young witch, probably in her early thirties, with long, black hair and tan skin – was introduced. Last year, we suffered the teaching of a really atrocious teacher, who resigned after an experiment gone wrong, an incident which the Marauders proudly took credit for.

Anyway, I ate, drank, laughed, and eventually fell into bed, along with my four friends, sighing contentedly at the thought of a good night's sleep, something that had been evading me for quite some time.

I thought of my mum, and dad, and Henry, and vaguely wondered if somewhere they were thinking of me, too, as I settled into my warm, squashy mattress.

I was asleep in a matter of seconds.

-X-

I raced through the empty corridors, my robes and prefect badge on, bag slung over my shoulder, and curls loose around my face. How does this always happen to me? One minute, I was perfectly on time, the next, I'm sprinting through the hall like a madman.

Coming to a shaky stop outside the Transfiguration classroom, I tried desperately to catch my breath. I pulled my hair into a messy ponytail, and then straightened my clothes so it did not look like I had just run a marathon. When I felt I was presentable, I opened the door and strode calmly into the classroom. Every student's eyes shifted to me at the door's creak, before sliding back to Professor McGonagall, whose back was to me as she wrote something on the blackboard. Professor McGonagall, a tall, thin woman with black hair that was always pulled into a no-nonsense bun, and square glasses that framed her hawk-like eyes, did not even bother turning around, probably quite used to this routine by now. I knew everyone else was.

My eyes flitted around the classroom to a desk in the front right corner, seating Lily alone. Directly behind her sat Alice and Marlene (Mary only managed an Acceptable on her O.W.L., bless her). Pretending not to be completely mortified, I pranced over to them.

"Sorry, I'm late," I muttered to Professor McGonagall. "Won't happen again."

I heard Professor McGonagall heave a great, exasperated sigh, before she turned around. "And so the lies begin," she said.

My walk faltered, but I quickly resumed, faster than before.

"Tell me, Miss Johnston," McGonagall continued, "why should I believe that this 'won't happen again'?"

I paused as I reached the desk and slowly turned to see Professor McGonagall staring at me, her thin eyebrows raised.

"Um . . ." I searched my brain for an appropriate answer, wondering if this was some kind of test. "Because I said it won't?"

She sighed again. "But you said that last year, did you not? And the year before that and the year before that . . . and yet here we are."

I didn't quite like the direction we were headed, but decided that perhaps it would be best to keep quiet.

"I have let your unfortunate habit for being tardy pass for six years because you are quite a good student, but I fear that once you leave Hogwarts, your employers might not be as generous."

She waited, as if she wanted me to say something. But, honestly, what was I supposed to say?

"I – I'm afraid I don't quite understand what you're saying, Professor," I mumbled, truthfully.

McGonagall sighed one last time. Was there a bug caught in her throat? "What I'm saying, Miss Johnston, is that, since reprimands and a loss of house points obviously have no affect on you, I am forced to give you a detention."

Silence rang throughout the classroom and throughout my brain. _What?_

At last James Potter in that wonderfully helpful way of his (note the sarcasm: couldn't he have just kept his mouth _shut_?) let out a low whistle and said, "Detention in the first ten minutes of the first class? Not bad for an amateur."

I blushed and spluttered, "P-Professor McGonagall, is a detention _really _necessary?"

"Well, since I have tried about everything else and you still continue to stubbornly be late, I have no other option. Now, please take a seat, Johnston, we have more important matters at hand."

"But, Professor!" I cried, _needing_ her to realize. "Detentions are for – for _troubled_ kids."

"Detentions are for anyone with a lesson that needs to be knocked into their thick head!" she snapped in a tone that allowed no room for argument. "Now, Miss Johnston, _take a seat_."

I grudgingly obliged.

-X-

I am proud to say that I have never received a detention, thank you very much. In my many years as a student at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, I have lost points for Gryffindor, received countless verbal reprimands, but have never, repeat _never_, landed myself in detention. I always thought detentions were for bad students who bullied others and didn't do their homework and such. I was always a good student. Much more studious than Marlene or Alice. Mary's alright, but the poor girl just did not achieve very good marks. I'd compare myself to Lily, but that would be like comparing apples to oranges.

Anyway, I prided myself on my detention record. I thought I' would for sure be able to go through all seven years of Hogwarts without one. _Obviously_, I was mistaken.

"Oh, quit moping already. It's one bloody detention."

I glanced gloomily up from my untouched dinner to Marlene.

"Everyone gets detention sooner or later," she continued. "There would be something wrong with you if you didn't."

"Yeah, cheer up, Mandy," Lily comforted, giving me a one-armed squeeze. "McGonagall said you're just doing lines, right? It could be worse."

I shrugged. "I s'pose so."

"Really, Mandy, detentions aren't that bad," Alice pressed. "I actually take quite pride in them. I remember every detention I've ever had. My favorites by far, were the ones with Hagrid in the Forbidden Forest in second year. Do you remember why I got them?"

"No, Al," I said glumly. "Unlike you, I _don't_ remember every detention you have ever received."

Mary giggled. "I remember you talking about those. You got them because you sent that sixth year to the hospital wing for a week after he said Mandy's hair looked like a rat's nest."

Alice beamed. "Some of my finest work."

I reluctantly smiled. I remembered that now. I was having a _very_ bad hair day.

Lily chuckled, too. "Oh, yes, and after that . . ." Her voice trailed off and my smile gradually faded, as I remembered what events took place afterwards. Right after the boy was released from the infirmary, he was sent back for another good week once the Marauders were through with him. A sudden rush of sadness and anger pulsed through my veins.

Marlene cleared her throat awkwardly. "I mean, even Lily got a detention that one time in fourth in year."

Lily gasped and brandished her fork dramatically at the dark-haired girl. "You promised never to speak of that!"

I laughed. They were right; I was being silly. It was one detention, for crying out loud!

"Miss Johnston," a voice interrupted my thoughts. I spun in my seat and was startled to see Professor McGonagall towering over me. "Your detention has been changed. You will be reporting to the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom and serving it with Professor Meadowes. I trust you are still taking Defense Against the Dark Arts, or is it no longer your ambition to become a Healer?"

"Oh, no, it is, Professor. The first class for the seventh years isn't until tomorrow."

"Ah, very well, then." She whirled on her heel and began to stride away before turning back again. For a moment, it almost seemed like her thin lips were quirked up in a smile, but I must have been hallucinating. Professor McGonagall did not smile; it was an unspoken rule. "And, Miss Johnston? Don't be late."

-X-

Professor Meadowes smiled kindly at me when I entered the Defense classroom.

"Ah, you must be Amanda," she said. "I'm Professor Meadowes. Glad to see you weren't tardy."

My first reaction was annoyance and embarrassment. But then I noticed the way her lips were pursed together to keep from laughing, and her caramel eyes were alight with mischief. She was joking. Well that was refreshing. Our professor last year never committed crimes as heinous as _telling jokes_.

"Yeah, I, um, made an extra effort to be on time. So what am I going to be doing tonight?"

Meadowes laughed. "Not one to be deterred easily, are you? Tonight, you'll be cleaning the Defense room. As you can see it's in a right state."

My eyes roved the room as I walked further into it, the door shutting gently behind me. Sure enough, every surface was covered in some disgusting-looking, green goop. I grimaced.

"Yes, I know," Meadowes, who had been watching me, said. "Had a bit of an accident with my third years, last class of the day."

"I'll be cleaning it without magic, I suppose." She nodded. I glanced over the room again. "It's a lot to clean up by myself."

"Oh, don't worry, you won't be. There was another student who had the misfortune of getting a detention on the first day back, too." She peeked at her watch. "I can't say I didn't expect him to be a bit late. He looked like the type who enjoys a dramatic entrance here and there."

"Oh." I racked my brains for small talk of any sort. "Did he get his detention for tardiness, too?"

Meadowes made a face. "No. He actually . . ." she gulped, "we were passing in the hallway and he stopped me, said he loved DADA and couldn't wait to get to know me and – and then he offered me a place in his bed, if you know what I mean. Quite loudly. So the whole corridor could hear. I was just going to let it pass, but, being new and all, I didn't want to come off as a pushover. So, I offered _him_ a place in detention. Didn't even faze him." She chuckled.

I stared at her blankly. "He _what_?" I couldn't imagine someone offering to bed a teacher in _private_, let alone a whole corridor full of people. What idiot would even _think_ of doing something like that?

Suddenly, there was the sound of the door opening.

"Hello, Meadowes," an all too familiar voice purred sultrily, and goose pimples erupted pn the back of my neck. "What a pleasure to . . ." the voice faltered, "see you again."

Professor Meadowes smiled over my head at someone. "Why, Mr. Black, so lovely of you to join us."

-X-

A/N: Ok, I know that was a pretty horrible ending to the chapter. I just felt it had to end like that. I would probably hate myself if I was a reader reading this, so I give you every right to. So sorry. Anyway, don't like this chapter much. What do you all think? Could you please review?

Hoping to see you soon (in a figurative meaning, of course),

Squid


	4. Reunion with the Devil

**Disclaimer**: Is there really a need for this?

**You're an Idiot, Sirius Black**

**Ch. 2 Reunion with the Devil**

No way in _heck_ was this happening.

I worked so hard to forget about him. _So hard_ to distance myself from everything that reminded me. And I was not about to allow all that hard work to slip down the drain because of some stupid, petty _detention_.

It's safe to say I was in shock. I gawped mindlessly at Professor Meadowes, wide-eyed and openmouthed, shoulders tensed. She met my gaze curiously, one eyebrow arched. And no wonder. I probably resembled a deer caught in headlights.

My breath came raggedly. Deep down, I knew I was overreacting. He was just a boy, after all, a boy I simply decided I no longer wished to be connected to. A boy who had spouted some spiteful things to me out of anger, causing me to spout some spiteful things back. A boy who had caused me so much pain and grief that I cried myself to sleep every bloody night for two bloody weeks!

At my sides, my hands curled into fists.

_Calm down, Amanda_, I silently told myself. _Just calm down and think._

He was standing only a few meters behind me, perhaps frozen with shock, too, or simply awaiting my reaction. I disliked being this close to him with no one to act as a barrier between us. It was a bit too . . . familiar. I was treading dangerous waters.

_Options, options . . ._ I thought dully. Well, there was always the obvious one. It might work. Professor Meadowes seemed like a groovy teacher, young and reasonable. It was worth a shot anyway.

"Professor Meadowes . . ." I began, not daring to spare even one tiny glance behind me for fear of the feelings certain to be evoked if I did. I gulped and leaned forward so my shaking hands rested on her desk.

"Professor," I began again, "is it possible that we could perhaps reschedule my detention for a later date? I just remembered that . . . that tonight's not very good for me?" It came out as a question.

Meadowes smirked slightly and glanced over my head. "Oh, really?" she questioned, seemingly trying to restrain laughter. "And you just . . . _conveniently_ remembered this? It had nothing to do with our new arrival?"

You know what? I changed my mind; Professor Meadowes was most certainly _not_ a reasonable teacher.

"P-P-Professor!" I stuttered, appalled. "This has nothing to do with – with _him_! I just have some, er, other things to do."

And _that_ excuse, my friends, was why the Sorting Hat considered neither Ravenclaw nor Slytherin whilst placing me.

Meadowes' smirk grew. "And you happened to remember this right when you realized Mr. Black would be joining you in detention?"

I crossed my arms, indignant. ""What? You've never heard of coincidence?"

She chuckled. "I'm sorry, Amanda, but I'm afraid that detention is not exactly _supposed_ to be at one's convenience. Where would the lesson be in that?"

I opened my mouth to tell her _exactly_ where the lesson would be, but froze when a new voice joined our spat.

"Professor Meadowes, I think you should excuse Mandy from this detention. For both of our sakes."

A sudden flow of emotions surged through me. His voice . . . it sounded exactly like it did three years ago, except deeper. And perhaps a bit . . . what's the word . . . sexier. Not that _I_ found it sexy, or anything, just like he was trying to make it sound that way. Sigh. What puberty does to a person.

And he called me "Mandy." The nickname my friends and family used. My loved ones. He was not my friend _or _family, and he was most certainly not a loved one.

Anger flooded my blood stream so quickly I barely had time to react. He wanted me to leave, did he? Well, there was no way I was about to give him that satisfaction.

"You know what, Professor?" I asked, plastering a fake smile on my face. "You are absolutely right! If you rescheduled my detention, I would learn nothing whatsoever. And, you know, I _love_ to learn things."

Meadowes blinked. "Oh, um, right. Glad you see it that way."

Ha. Take that, Black.

Meadowes went on to explain how detention would be spent to Black. She then took our wands and locked them in a drawer in her desk.

"Alright," she finished at last, situating cleaning supplies on her desk. "You're set. Now, I have a few things to do, but they shouldn't take too long. I trust you won't get into any . . ." her eyes flicked up toward Black, "mischief."

If he was anything close to the boy I had known, I imagined he would be grinning cockily about now. "I make no promises . . . but I'll try."

Meadowes laughed. "I suppose that's the most I can ask." Her eyes flitted to me. "Good luck. I'll be back in a flash."

"Oh, and Professor?" Black called. "My offer's still open."

. . . I think I just vomited a little.

She chuckled one last time and left, the door swinging softly shut behind her. And that was when it hit me.

I was _alone_. In a classroom. With _Black_. Well, _this_ plan obviously was not very well thought out.

Ok, so I needed a rational solution before I started hyperventilating again. Maybe running after Professor Meadowes and begging her to come back would be the best choice? No, no, that was far too conspicuous. But what other options were there? Argh, if there _should _come a time when a confrontation was necessary, I would really need to mentally prepare myself. I was not ready for this!

_Why should you _have_ to be ready for this?_ A small voice inside my head asked. _Is a confrontation truly inevitable?_

I thought about that for a moment and realized the small voice was right. I should not have to endure this. And I wouldn't. I would simply ignore him like I'd always done. I mean, I had spent over three bleeding _years_ trying to forget about him, I wasn't about to quit now!

Plus, it was not like he had actually gone out of his way to talk to _me _all those years ago. He ignored me as much as I ignored him. Maybe even more.

I further convinced myself of this as I grabbed some spray and a rag and walked into one corner of the classroom. I strained my ears as Black hesitated; then, the glorious melody of his footsteps echoed through the room as he strode to the opposite corner. I breathed a quiet sigh of relief. Am I a genius or am I a genius?

"So . . . did you offer to sleep with Meadowes, too?"

You know about five seconds ago when I asked if I was a genius? That was a rhetorical question.

I briefly closed my eyes. This wasn't happening. This _couldn't_ be happening. Oh please, God, don't let this be happening!

My lips remained sewn shut. He would get the hint. He wouldn't try to talk again. If Life took any pity on me whatsoever, he wouldn't try to talk again.

"Ah, the silent treatment. I see. I just thought that – I dunno – that maybe since we're legally of age and all, we could be a _bit_ more mature than that."

A joke. He was trying to make this into a joke. He hurt me, I hurt him, we didn't even acknowledge each other for over three years, and he tries to make this into a _joke_! Oh, the _nerve_ of some people!

I huffed angrily and started scrubbing away the green goop on the wall a tad bit more vehemently than I had been going for.

"Merlin, Mandy. What'd the wall ever do to you?"

"Don't call me that," I hissed, against my better judgment.

"Pardon?"

I exhaled heavily through my nose. "Don't call me 'Mandy'!"

"Why? That's your name, isn't it?" He sounded truly confused.

"My _name_ is Amanda Johnston. 'Mandy' is what my friends and family and the people I care about call me."

"Are you saying you don't care about me? I'm hurt."

I swear, if I didn't want to stay as far away as possible from him, I would have killed him with my own two hands right then and there.

I pursed my lips and glared at the lumpy slime hanging in front of me, as if all my problems stemmed from it. Which was entirely unfair. The slime had done nothing,

I sighed and resumed my work. You know, this goop stuff was really kind of fascinating in a rather disgusting way. Like the horrific concoction my father made out of jam, lima beans, and food coloring. My dad used to pretend like he was sneezing it into his hand, much to my younger self's enjoyment and, later, Henry's. I wonder why I loved that that stuff so much, anyway . . . .

Suddenly, something moist and sticky pelted the back of my head. I whipped around, but only saw Black with his back to me, wiping down a desk and whistling innocently. I narrowed my eyes, reached up, and removed a clump of goop from my ponytail. Revolting. I cast him one final suspicious look before dutifully continuing to clean.

Another glob of goop hit me, on the ear this time. I didn't even bother to react as I brushed it off. He was not about to get to me. _I wouldn't allow it_.

Another bead lodged itself on my neck. My impeccably spotless neck that I took the time to scrub with soap in the shower this morning. I sucked in a deep, calming breath.

"Stop it, Black," I whispered through clenched teeth, clinging desperately to my final remnants of sanity.

"You know, I don't think that's entirely fair. If I can't call you 'Mandy,' then you can't call me 'Black.'"

"Why?" I repeated his earlier question, idly wondering if it annoyed him as much as it had me. "That is your name, isn't it?"

"My _name_ is Sirius. 'Black' is just the surname that I was unfortunate enough to inherit from the people who _say_ they share my blood." He hesitated. "But I'm not quite sure; the results of the paternity tests have yet to be identified."

I exhaled. "Whatever," I mumbled, praying to every entity I knew that for once he'd take the high road and give it all a rest. He was the past. And I buried the past. _All_ of it – my father's health, my mother's liveliness, life without war, my own faith in the world. Every single circumstance that contributed to the person I used to be was behind me. Buried. Gone.

And I had no intent to find it again.

Some goop hit me once more and I just about lost it.

"Cut it out, Sirius!" I cried, spinning around. I gasped, my hand immediately flying to my mouth. That was the first time I had spoken his given name in over three years. It should have felt weird to say. Unusual. But instead it felt so . . . _good_. Like speaking your first language after using a foreign one in a strange land for a long, long time. Natural.

Black (Oh, that just doesn't sound right! Ugh, why did I have to say his name in the first place?) was frozen, his back to me – but I knew he could hardly remain that way for long. I needed to turn back. Why couldn't I turn back? Turn around, Amanda, _bloody turn_ –

He looked at me. He looked at me with those striking gray eyes and that longish, black hair that fell so gracefully into them and I was suddenly teleported into another time. A time where I was happy and young and naïve and foolish. A time where I trusted the boy before me with my life. A better time. A time I wished I could visit again.

Tears stung my eyes, but I couldn't let them fall. That would show weakness. And I couldn't be weak. I needed to be strong.

He stepped tentatively forward and I was jolted from my reverie. I spun back, fast as lightning, and continued cleaning as if I never stopped. But, inside, turmoil reigned.

_Don't cry,_ I chanted in my head again and again. _Don't cry, don't cry, don't cry, don't cry, don't – _

"I'm sorry, Amanda." The whisper was so soft, I might have imagined it. "So . . . _truly_ . . . sorry."

The tears fell.

-X-

The second Professor Meadowes released our wands, excusing us, I was out the door.

I ran. Ran as hard and fast as possible. I needed to get away from there. Away from _him_. Away from all those memories.

The patter of his footsteps did not resound through the corridors. Violent breaths could not be heard. He let me go. Let me run.

"Dictamus albus!" I shouted to the portrait of the Fat Lady even though I was still meters away.

"Good heavens, child!" she cried, swinging open all the same. "Slow down!"

I took a running leap and stumbled into the common room. I noticed my dorm mates, sitting by the fire, look at me in alarm and I considered how I must have appeared: sweaty from sprinting all this way, eyes blood-shot with silent tears, and green slime stuck in my hair. Not the prettiest picture.

"Merlin's pants, Mandy!" Alice cried. "What did you _do_ in detention?"

I looked around them all. They were my best mates; I could tell them. But did I want to? Part of me wanted – no, _needed_ to keep my run in with my ex-best friend a secret. Forget it ever happened. Push it back where it belonged.

Making my way over to them, I smiled. "It was nothing. Absolutely nothing."

They gave me long, scrutinizing stares, but in the end, didn't pry. God, I loved them.

"Well, I'm tired," Mary murmured, after another ten minutes. "Let's head up."

We all agreed and headed to the dormitory, where we could snuggle into our mattresses and whisk away to dreamland. I lay in bed for a while, just staring at the ceiling and considering what a strange, horrible first day this had been, with detention and my reunion with the devil and whatnot. But it was over. And tomorrow was a new day.

"Mandy?" a voice from across the room whispered. I started slightly, not thinking anyone else was awake.

"Yeah, Lils?"

"You know you can talk to us about anything, right? Me, and Alice, and Mary, and Marlene. We're here for you. You know that, right?"

I smiled to myself. "Of course, Lils. And you guys can talk to me."

"Right." She yawned. "Oh, and Man?"

"Hmm?"

"I don't think we should hang out anymore. With your detention record, you are becoming _far _too much of a trouble maker for me."

I rolled my eyes, but giggled slightly. Yes, tomorrow was definitely a new day.

-X-

"Behold!" Alice exclaimed as we walked through the door to Potions, our first lesson of the day. "Amanda Johnston is on time!"

The room fell silent as the previously chattering kids stared up at me. Potions was a crowded class, many students having decided to continue into N.E.W.T level. My cheeks flamed.

"Shut up," I muttered, grabbing hold of her robe sleeve, and pulling her to an empty table. Our friends chuckled and followed.

"This _is_ a sight," Lily agreed. "I never thought I'd see the day when you'd be early."

I scowled. "I'm early lots of the time. Just not as often as freaks of nature, like you!"

Lily simply shot me a "_riiiiiiiight_" look.

The bell rang and Professor Slughorn, a portly, old wizard who always seemed to be intoxicated, strolled in, beaming

"Severus," he nodded to the Slytherin. "Ah, Lily! How was your summer?"

Lily managed a weak smile and I fought to restrain my own. "It was lovely, Professor. How was yours?"

"Oh, just wonderful, M'dear, just wonderful!" he said cheerily. "And look at you, miss Mckinnon!" Marlene's eyes widened, startled at an address from a teacher who usually only associated with his absolute favorites (people that were few and far between). "I remember when you were but a little eleven-year-old girl. And now you are just so grown up and beautiful!"

Marlene smiled dazzlingly. "Why, thank you . . . _Professor_."

I rolled my eyes. That girl was such a flirt.

Slughorn blinked, probably not used to being the focal of Marlene's rather promiscuous attentions, as so many were. Once he regained his composure, however, he exclaimed, "Oho, but you are all so grown up! Each and every one of you." He gazed around the classroom, almost wistfully. "And now you enter your seventh year. And what a year it will be!"

He frowned at something suddenly, but I hardly cared enough to see what.

"Aren't there four of you?" he asked, confusedly.

"Er – usually, sir," a voice from the table next to ours said. I glanced up and saw the speaker to be a thin boy with light brown hair and milk chocolate colored eyes. I knew him to be Remus Lupin, a Gryffindor and another of the infamous Marauders. "But he chose not to carry onto N.E.W.T. level."

Slughorn licked his lips. "What was his name? Paul . . . Patrick . . ."

"Peter, sir. Peter Pettigrew."

"Ah, yes! Was he in the class last year?"

"No, sir."

"Hmm." He stroked his double chin. Abruptly, he turned on my table. How could a man of his bulk and age possibly move that quickly? "Miss Johansson, why don't you sit with these lovely boys this year, even out their group number a bit?"

I doodled aimlessly on a piece of scrap parchment while his words sunk in. Wait . . . there was not a Johansson in this class, much less at my table. I wasn't even sure there was a Johansson in seventh year. Which meant . . .

I slowly raised my eyes to Slughorn, hoping against hope that he was not saying what I thought. He was gazing at me expectantly. Oh, God . . .

"Miss Johansson? Or is it Johnson? Forgive me, dear, I'm an old man."

This could only mean one thing. He wanted _me_ to sit with three of the Marauders. For the rest of Seventh Year. _Me_.

The amount of swear words that entered my heard would have made a _sailor_ cringe.

-X-

A/N:Thank you so much to all those people who take the time to review! You guys are completely amazing.And also to those who have favorited this story or put it on alert. I am totally honored.


	5. Potions with the Marauders

**You're an Idiot, Sirius Black**

**Ch. 3 Potions with the Marauders**

Just for the record, seventh year is _so_ not making a good first impression on me.

I briefly closed my eyes, thinking of what luck I had. And it was only the second day! What if this continued through the rest of the year? I tried not to think that thought. It was just too horrifying.

I opened my eyes and found myself gazing into Lily's worried, green ones.

"Do you want me to sit with them?" she whispered. "I will, you know. For you."

I smiled weakly at what an amazing friend she was. "It's all right, Lils. I couldn't ask you to do that."

"Well, you could ask me," Marlene said. "Or Alice. Or Mare ---"

"Well, Amelia?" Professor Slughorn asked. "Hop to it then!"

"Amanda," Lily spoke up automatically. "She's Amanda."

"Who is?" he asked.

Lily sighed. "Never mind."

I looked slowly at the rest of the students in the room. They were all staring at me. And I suppose it made sense. For three years I am sure that I have been known to the school as "The Girl Who Got Dumped by Sirius Black." I can see where they got the idea, I suppose. I mean an ordinary Muggle-born girl and the notorious Sirius Black being friends is a wonder in itself, so if they suddenly started pretending the other didn't exist, who would you assume dumped who? I know _I_ would have thought Black dumped the girl.

Whispers had erupted in the classroom. The kids from the table of Slytherins looked smug and delighted as they talked in hushed tones. The Ravenclaws and the Hufflepuffs seemed somewhat more compassionate, though the girls did look the tiniest bit jealous. The thought that anyone could be envious of me at the moment was baffling.

"Miss Johansson?"

I sucked in a deep breath. _Be brave,_ I told myself. _Be a Gryffindor for once._

I gathered my things and was pretty sure I heard a collective gasp from my peers.

"You don't have to do this, Mandy," Mary whispered, taking my hand. "Tell him you can't sit there."

Oh, yes, because trying to get a teacher to rethink plans for me worked _so_ well the first time around.

I just smiled slightly and stood.

_Be brave. _

Everyone was watching me.

_Just take a couple steps; it'll be over before you know it._

Yes, that was it. Just one step. One small step. For girl. One giant step for girl-kind.

I giggled at that horribly childish analogy and my friends looked at me as if I was crazy. I sucked in another breath and, keeping my eyes firmly on my feet, made my way to the Marauders' table. I sat in the seat next to Remus Lupin and tentatively let the breath out.

That was it. I was alive. The sky hadn't fallen, the earth's surface hadn't cracked, and no one had died. Well, that was far too much bravery for one day! Remind me why I'm in Gryffindor, again?

"Jolly good!" Slughorn said, proceeding to walk to the blackboard and begin magically writing on it with his wand as if nothing had just happened. Was that even possible? Could anyone be so completely oblivious to the tension in this room and the turmoil in my heart and mind?

I eased into the seat. Remus was obviously trying hard not to look at me, though James Potter was openly gaping._ He_ wasn't looking at me, his eyes carefully glued to Slughorn. I wasn't sure if this relieved or annoyed me. I mean, he spends detention yesterday throwing slime into my hair like a five-year-old just so I'll talk to him and now he sits acting as if nothing was out of the ordinary. Merlin, he knew how to get under my skin.

I could feel the glances I was getting from my dorm mates and Remus and James as Slughorn gave us the same type of speech McGonagall, Flitwick, and Sprout had given yesterday about "the importance of seventh year" and whatnot. I tuned him out. Perhaps it was utterly immature, but Seventh Year was currently not on the best of terms with me. It was being a jerk.

The situation was_ very_ awkward. James, Remus, and Sirius --- I mean, Black --- could feel it, too; I could tell from their tense postures. Each second seemed to drag by.

"Now, you will be making the Blood-Replenishing potion today," Slughorn was explaining. "It's a nice, simple potion to ease us into the year, but has horrid effects should mistakes be made. All those future healers out there might want to pay careful attention to this one."

Almost imperceptibly, I sat up straighter in my seat as he continued to write the potion ingredients on the blackboard.

There was a flurry of movement when Slughorn excused us to go obtain our ingredients. An uncomfortable silence hung around the table. I bit my lip and fiddled idly with my thumbs.

After a few moments, James was, as always, the first to break the quiet. "Well, _this_ is exceedingly awkward!" he exclaimed, clapping his hands together. "Which is precisely why I shall now go and fetch the potion ingredients!" He hopped up, a huge smile plastered on his face.

"I'm right behind you," Remus immediately said, standing up quickly.

"Of course you're right behind me, Moony," James said as he led the way to the potion cabinet. "Everyone's right behind _me_. Being first is part of the James Potter job description."

I sighed and, desperately ignoring the extreme awkwardness that crushed down on me with the weight of an anvil, began setting up my cauldron and scales, holding my breath the whole time.

After a few moments in which he gave no indication that he was about to try and strike up conversation and my air supply became low, I let the breath out, gratefully filling my lungs with oxygen again and thanking the Lord for having mercy on me.

"Amanda, have you remembered to breathe? You look purple."

You know what? I need to stop making assumptions so quickly. It only results in pain and a feeling of stupidity.

Now, I could have said many colorful words to him right then, but of course, being the impeccable person I am, I took the higher road and remained silent. Because I, Amanda Johnston, am a far bigger person than Sirius Black and have a self-control and intellect he could only _dream_ of ---

"Mandy, listen---"

"Bloody _hell_, Sirius, would you stop calling me 'Mandy?'" I burst, looking up and freezing when my eyes connected with his. Here we go again . . .

"Well, what am I _supposed_ to call you?" he asked softly, his dark eyes tortured.

"I don't know," I breathed, unwilling or unable to break eye contact, I wasn't quite sure. "'Amanda,' or 'Johnston,' or 'Hey, you,' I really don't care. Just anything but . . . '_Mandy_.'" My eyes began to tear up and I cursed the fact that I was such an easy crier these days. I hate puberty.

Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed his fingers twitch slightly, as if he wanted to take hold of my hand, but thought better of it. Smart man.

Suddenly someone cleared their throat to the right of me and I jumped in my seat. I turned quickly, grateful for the distraction, and breathed a sigh of relief to look up at someone whose eyes were warm and brown, noticeably lacking darkness.

"I'm Remus Lupin," he introduced himself, as he set down some potion ingredients in front of me. "I don't believe we've formally met." He held out his hand and I took it with some hesitation. He just looked so . . . _breakable_. His grip was surprisingly strong, however, as he smiled kindly down on me.

I didn't know much about this boy, other than that he had some terrible sickness and sometimes missed classes to be treated. He was quieter than James and Black (which still does not sound as good as his first name, I might add) and seemed to shy away from the spotlight. Huh. Was he _really_ a Marauder? Anyway, I decided I liked Remus Lupin.

"I'm Amanda Johnston," I said in return as he took a seat. "But you can call me . . ." I faltered on the last word of the sentence that was usually attached to my name when I introduced myself as I realized how hypocritical it would sound after what I had just been arguing about with Black.

"I don't have to call you anything," Remus responded, somehow sensing my predicament. "Amanda's a right lovely name."

My face softened into a small smile. "Thanks," I said, ignoring the slight fluttering in my stomach and turning to my cauldron. Glancing up at the board, I grabbed a handful of leeches and proceeded to cut them in half.

"Sorry, you have to sit with us, Amanda," James said as he did the same. "I'll make sure to give Peter a spanking later for not studying harder before his O.W.L. . . . Unless you'd like to do it yourself, of course," he added hurriedly, as if afraid he was being impolite.

I looked up at him in horror. The mental image _that_ conjured up . . .

"Joking!" he cried quickly upon seeing my wide eyes. "Honestly, you take things to seriously . . ."

I shuddered and looked down at my leeches.

"Really, I was kidding," James pressed. "You don't have to spank Peter, I swear."

"No, it's alright," I said, smiling slightly. "I'm just . . . probably going to have to go to therapy now for emotional scarring, but it's no big deal!"

James laughed as Remus smiled and I went back to my leeches. We continued working on our potions, the brief moment of comfortableness gone and awkwardness pressing in once more.

"Oho, Mr. Snape, however did you get that light pink shade so quickly?" I heard Slughorn bellowing after ten more minutes or so. "That marks the halfway stage! It's physically impossible to already have . . ."

I glanced over my shoulder absentmindedly, and saw a thin boy with overlong, greasy black hair and sallow skin at the Slytherin table, looking smug as he watched Slughorn observe his potion, which was, as the professor had previously stated, a light shade of pink.

"It's just a new technique I've been working on . . ." Severus Snape said with a slight smirk.

I shifted my gaze to the table where I had formerly been seated to see Lily roll her eyes in disgust before looking back to my own potions partners.

"The slimy git," James said, having noticed the exchange, too. "Someone needs to . . . teach him a lesson . . ." An evilly mischievous glint was alight in his eyes.

"James . . ." Remus said apprehensively as James subtly drew his wand.

"Oh come on, Moony," James whined. "It's already the second day back and we haven't pulled a prank yet! We don't want to lose our reputation!"

"You pulled a prank yesterday in Divination."

"That was an accident! Pete didn't _know_ the spell would ---"

"I'm sure you have something to say on this, Amanda," Blackcut in, his eyes hard. We all looked to him in alarm.

"What?" I asked, utterly confused. "Why would I have anything to say about it?"

Never breaking eye contact, he said, "Oh, I don't know. You always seemed oddly protective of Snape for _no utter reason_. I just thought that you might find pranking him wrong." He continued to bore his eyes into mine as if trying to convey some hidden meaning to his speech.

Suddenly the words, _"Oh, sure, defend the slimy git! While you're at it, why don't you form a fan club?"_ rang throughout my head. My mouth opened in shock slightly before I pursed my lips in determination. Well, two could play_ that_ game.

"Once again, you are making no sense whatsoever," I replied coolly. "I have no _idea_ what you're talking about because your words are not only untrue, but they don't apply to the situation at hand at _all_."

He raised his eyebrows as Remus and James exchanged uncomfortable looks. "My words apply to the situation perfectly; _you _are the one who makes no sense, Mandy."

My nostrils flared in indignation. "_Don't_ call me 'Mandy,' Black."

A small smirk played on his lips. "Don't call me 'Black,' _Mandy_."

We glared at each other for a moment longer; well _I _glared, he sort of smirked challengingly.

"You know what, Moony?" James finally spoke. "You're right. This class has been entertaining enough as it is."

OoooooooooooO

When the bell rang, I shoved my stuff in my bag and was leaving the table before the Marauders even had time to move.

I sighed dejectedly when I came to a stop at the table seating my friends who were putting their things away, causing them to look up at me in mild interest.

"Mandy!" Lily immediately cried, jumping up and throwing her arms around me. "You're alright!"

"Of course I'm alright," I wheezed, attempting to gently pry her off me. "I was sitting with three Marauders, not three serial killers."

"There's a difference?" I heard Alice mutter to Marlene, who shrugged.

"Lily, really, I'm fine," I said. "There's no need for this." After a moment or two I added, "Seriously, Lily, get off."

"Sorry," Lily smiled sheepishly as she pulled back. "I was just worried. I mean, that must have been emotionally traumatizing for you. Er, was it?"

"A bit," I shrugged. "But, um, notsmuchlassnight." I grimaced, bracing myself for their reactions. They just stared at me.

"Er, come again?" Lily asked politely.

I sighed exasperatedly and forced myself to repeat, slower, as if explaining two plus two equal four to a very slow six-year-old, "The trauma was worse last night when he, er, served detention with me."

I cringed at the roars of surprise and outrage surfacing from my fellow Gryffindors.

I glanced around nervously at the glances our commotion was receiving from the other students. I motioned for them to follow me out of the classroom, which they did without a word. Thank God for small miracles.

"Why didn't you tell us?" Lily cried as soon we were in the corridor at the same time as Alice asked, "Wait, so was _that_ why you were so jumpy afterward?"

"Not wholly," I said, answering Alice's question. "My jumpiness was also partly because of this weird, green stuff that was utterly degusting, and yet strangely compelling, if that makes any sense at all." I looked at her hopefully.

"It doesn't," she shook her head. "But I kind of get where you're coming from. One time, there was this gross purple thing stuck to my shoe and ---"

"As _riveting_ as this conversation is," Lily interrupted bossily, "you still haven't answered _my_ question."

I bit my lip and played with a curl hanging free of my ponytail. "Well --- It was the first day back and I just --- I didn't want to bother you ---"

"Mandy, we're your friends," Lily said. "It's your _job_ to bother us!"

"Even though I could probably do without the bother --- Ow, that was my _foot_, Lily!" Marlene cried.

"Oh was it?" Lily asked flippantly. "I thought it was a bug."

I giggled. "Don't worry about me guys. It's just one class every other day and everyone's always so focused on their potion, so no one will really talk that much." I tried to sound reassuring, though the thought of having to sit with him _every other day_ terrified me. "And Lily, don't you and Mary have Muggle Studies right now?"

Lily's eyes widened. "You're right! Oh, no, we're going to be --- Come on!" She grabbed Mary's hand and dragged her down the hall, calling over her shoulder, "This isn't over!"

"She acts as if being late's a _bad_ thing," I said huffily after watching the two girls disappear.

"For _normal_ people it is," Marlene pointed out.

Well, that would explain it. I tend not to associate with normal people. They're weird.

"So what did you talk about with the Marauders?" Alice asked, as we continued down the corridor. "And don't say 'nothing.' We saw you talking."

I chewed on my lip. "Well, we talked about . . . spanking Peter and . . ."

"Never mind," Alice said. "I don't want to know."

OoooooooooooO

More people than ever were continuing Defense Against the Dark Arts on to N.E.W.T level. More people than ever wanted to know how to defend themselves. Because, more than ever, they needed to know.

I admit it was a bit frightening to know there were people out there who wanted Muggles and Muggle-borns dead and would use any means to get them that way. And it was strange, too. Strange to believe that those people --- those Death Swallowers or whatever they're called --- thought the world would be better off without Lily and me and our parents and siblings even though they didn't know us. Now, I know I'm not a saint or anything, but _come on_! Surely I could help the world in _some _way! Maybe I could pick up trash or clean toilets? Someone would have to do it, right?

Anyway, as we settled into the crowded classroom for the last class of the day, the air of desperation and determination that hung around us was more tangible than ever before. This was not just some silly class to hang out and goof off in. People wanted to _learn_.

"Settle down, settle down." Professor Meadowes strode into the room, purpose heavy in her every step. She smiled kindly as she passed me and I resisted the urge to respond with a glare.

"How are you, Amanda?" she asked. "Did the detention have an affect on you permanent health?"

Ok, I couldn't help it. I had to let a tiny amount of glare out or I would have exploded.

She chuckled upon seeing my expression. "Don't worry; you'll thank me for it later when you're a mature and well-rounded adult."

Uh-huh. You just keep telling yourself that.

"What was that about?" Lily whispered, but I just shook my head.

"Later."

"Now, as you all know," Meadowes was saying, "the world is constantly being driven into a darker and more dangerous state. And this is your last year of Hogwarts. The need to have a clear knowledge and understanding of Defense is stronger than ever.

So, I say that before I start teaching, we should get a familiarity of where you all stand in your practical Defensive intelligence." The quiet in the room was disrupted slightly as whispers broke out. Last year we had never done anything _practical_. "I'll give you a minute or so to grab a partner and we'll see how the two of you duel against each other."

There was a sudden outbreak of movement as people scrambled to grab hold of their friends. I didn't move, for it was assumed that Lily, who sat next to me, would be my partner.

I noticed James frolicking (Like a _deer_! I swear he is Bambi reincarnated.) up to us.

"So, Evans," he said, leaning on our table as Lily bent over to fish something out of her book bag. "What do you say us crazy kids ---?"

"In your dreams, Potter," Lily said, not even looking up.

"Oh, come on," he whined. "It would be fun! You'd get to beat the pulp out of me for educational purposes!"

"As tempting as that offer sounds, I'm going to have to refuse." She smiled proudly as she pulled out her quill and some parchment and set them on the desk. She looked at me. "You should really take notes, you know, this could be important."

I stared at her. "We're going to be watching people duel each other."

She rolled her eyes. "Suit yourself."

James then attempted to make her agree to partner with him again and I tuned them out as I lazily fingered a scratch in the desk. Lily would never give in.

I felt someone lean on my side of the desk, but didn't care to look up.

"Amanda," he greeted me.

I froze before letting out a frustrated sigh. "Serving detention with me and sitting with me at potions does not automatically allow you to approach me and engage me in conversation, you know that?"

"I'm starting to get the impression that there's some pent up hostility toward me bottled up inside you."

I snorted. "And _wherever_ did you get that idea?"

"I think you need an outlet for all that anger," he continued, as if he had not heard me.

"Yes? And where would I go about getting one of those?"

"Be my dueling partner."

Incredulous, I looked up and the shock of meeting his eyes only rendered me speechless for the briefest of moments. "_What_?" I sputtered.

"You heard me." He leaned forward and I leaned back. "Be my dueling partner today. I really think it would be healthy for you."

"And why on earth do you care about my health?"

For a brief moment, his mask of confidence faded slightly and he seemed unsure. "Because a long time ago we were friends," he said. "And friendship doesn't just die."

_No_, was what I wanted to say. _It has to be murdered. Brutally. And painfully. With blood gushing everywhere. _

Instead I settled for, "Are you _serious_?"

"Why of course. I've always been Sirius."

We stared at each other.

Finally, he said, "You know, you kind of set yourself up for that ---"

"Yes, I know."

"So you gonna do it?" he asked. "Or are you too scared?"

I glowered at him and he cringed as if he knew he had said the wrong thing.

"Fine," I agreed at last and he attempted to look victorious, though I could tell he was worried, probably afraid I might really injure him.

Oh, he was _so_ going to die.

OoooooooooooO

A/N: Sorry for the longish update! Life's just crazy. And thanks so much to all those who follow this story, especially those who review. You guys make my day.

So what did you think? Please review!

13


	6. Some Things Will Never Change

**A/N: **Guess what? 50 reviews! Thanks so much to everyone, you all rock.

**You're an Idiot, Sirius Black**

**Ch. 4 Some Things Will Never Change **

Lily was very angry with me.

"I can't believe you!" she cried. "Do you realize what this _means_?"

"You'll have to partner with Potter," I muttered tiredly.

"I'll have to partner with Potter! _James_ Potter, Mandy!"

"Yes, I'm perfectly aware of which 'Potter' you'll have to partner with," I said, glancing across the room to where James sat, leaning back in his chair and grinning triumphantly. He would be dueling with Lily since Mary and Alice, and Marlene and some Hufflepuff boy would be partnering together, having assumed Lily and I would do the same.

"I'm really sorry," I said, smiling what I hoped was an appeasing smile at her. "How was I supposed to know he'd be the only person who was still partner-less?"

Lily blew a huff of air out her nose and sat silently, fuming, as I allowed her a few moments to cool down.

"Why'd you agree to partner with Black, anyway?" she asked finally, when she was a tad more levelheaded.

I chewed on my lip, mulling over my options. "Well . . . it was more of a matter of pride than anything else."

She frowned. "Since when have you cared about pride?"

"Er --- truthfully, since about five seconds ago, when I figured it was the best argument I had against you."

Lily glared at me.

"Is there anyone who does NOT have a partner?" Professor Meadowes called over the idle chit-chat of her students. "Anyone? No one? All-righty then. Now, for the rules. Since in a real life situation, you will most likely not be dueling conventionally, no traditional regulations will apply here. However, for safety reasons, you _will_ wait until I say so to begin. And no critically harmful or Unforgivable spells. Understand?"

I heard soft sniggers at that and turned partially in my seat to see two Slytherin boys sitting nearby. The blonde one --- Rosier, I think his name was --- caught me staring and, grinning evilly, winked before leaning over and whispering in the other boy's ear. I distinctly caught the word "Mudblood."

"Ignore them," Lily whispered. "It's what I do." And when she took my hand in hers, I knew I was forgiven.

"So who'd like to go first?" Meadowes asked. Predictably, no one volunteered, each person wanting to see a duel or two before participating in their own. "Anybody?" She frowned at the lack of response.

I knew what she was about to do a moment before she did it. I knew because, for some strange reason, this professor took a perverse joy in my torment.

"How about you two girls?" she asked, turning toward Lily and me.

Lily snorted and I grimaced as her irritation of me was reawakened. "Oh, no, we're not _partners_. We only sit together, eat together, study together, and I'd do practically _anything_ for her, but we're not partnered up."

I heard giggles and sent a quick glare over my shoulder at Alice and Mary, the little She-Devils.

"Oh," Meadowes said, obviously confused. "Well, then who _are_ your partners?"

Lily huffed and stared in the opposite direction of me, as I shrunk a little in my seat. Neither of us answered.

"Who's your partner, Amanda?" Meadowes repeated, turning to me.

I chewed on my lip. How did I go about saying this without having her laugh at me or seeming like a hypocrite?

I heard a heavy sigh across the room and my anxious eyes darted to Black's impatient ones. He wasn't just going to _tell_, was he? These things took time! He could not simply go and ---

"I'm her partner," he said, his voice loud, and I exhaled heavily through my nose. Some people are so ignorant to the proper ways of life.

Heads turned and whispers broke out. I gritted my teeth in anger and embarrassment.

Meadowes raised an eyebrow and her eyes danced with humor. "Really?" she asked. "Well, I suppose that detention was good for you, after all." She winked.

_Save it for the duel,_ _Mandy_, I reminded myself, attempting to control my frustration. _Save it for the duel._

"So, why don't you two go first then? Get it out of the way?"

I sighed and nodded dejectedly before standing, keeping my eyes glued firmly to the front of the class where a large space had been cleared.

"Good luck," I heard Mary whisper and I managed a weak smile at her over my shoulder. Alice gave me a thumbs-up.

I made my way to the designated area, my excitement climbing slightly with each step. This was it. After more than three years, I was finally going to be able to release some of the anger and sadness bottled up inside me from the Incident. I feared standing up there, dueling him in front of the entire class, but the thought of unleashing some of my anger upon him . . . I relished it.

I turned to him when I reached the front. He stood there, cool and confident as ever, and it fueled my fury.

Meadowes pulled out a pad of parchment and a quill so she could take notes. "Alright, now remember to give it your best shot and," she glanced at me, the fire in my eyes, "no fatal spells. Now . . . go!"

Black and I both thrust our wands out, but neither of us said a thing. We just stood there, waiting for the other person to fire their curse, wanting to see how our opponent was going to play.

"Go," Meadowes repeated. "Now."

The anticipation in the room was so high, almost suffocating. We continued to stare at each other.

"I'm not going to throw the first spell, I hope you know," I told him haughtily, wanting to ignite irritation in him, mar his cool demeanor.

To my annoyance, a smile graced his features and he lowered his wand.

"Ok," he said and I gaped at him. "I don't doubt it. You always were stubborn."

My rage swelled. I hated that. Hated the way he acted like he knew everything about me. It had been three years since the last time we really talked. And maybe, just maybe, he had known me all those years ago, but not now. We lived in a different world nowadays, and I, like everyone else, had been forced to adjust to it.

"Well, I change my mind," I said. "I think I _will_ throw the first curse."

"You do that." He grinned cockily and I blew a huff of air out my nose. He was so _annoying_.

I awkwardly glanced around the class. Our peers were watching us with mildly interested expressions and even Professor Meadowes looked reluctant to break up our little exchange, wanting to see the outcome. Slowly, I lowered my wand.

"Has anyone ever told you you're an idiot?" I hissed.

"Why, of course," he said conversationally. "Many, many times. I could list them all, if you'd like?"

"You don't have to. I have a feeling it's a long list."

"Oh, ha ha. Very clever, make fun of the idiot."

The strangest sensation came over me at that moment. I wanted to . . . smile. At something _Black_ said. How odd.

Suddenly, a thought struck me.

"Quit it," I hissed vehemently.

He raised an eyebrow, seemingly confused. "Quit what?"

"Trying to bait me into hexing you. I won't. Not until you hex me."

He smiled brightly, but did not answer my question, instead opting to ask loudly and clearly, "Just out of curiosity, Mandy, do you still wear a sports bra?"

My eyes widened and my cheeks heated up as snickers met my ears. _Don't let him get to you,_ I reminded myself. _It's what he wants. _

I held my head high, shoulders back, and attempted to keep what remaining dignity I had left. "As a matter of fact, I do," I managed without my voice shaking. "Is there a problem with that?"

"Oh, no," he said politely. "Well, at least not for _me_. I mean, if a bloke ever wanted to ---"

I had two choices: I could allow him to finish that sentence and prove to him that I was strong, or I could sacrifice my pride and spare myself a year's worth of humiliation. I'm sorry, Pride. Desperate times call for desperate measures.

"_Rictumsempra!_" I cried, leaping forward. Black's eyes widened and he attempted to dodge out of the way, but the jet of light still clipped his shoulder. Before anyone had time to blink, he was doubled over in laughter.

A few students applauded. I beamed triumphantly.

"_Sides_ . . . _hurt_ . . ." he wheezed. "_Kill_ . . . _you_ . . ."

I couldn't help it; I giggled.

"Yes, yes, very funny, Amanda," Meadowes said, making a note on her clipboard. "Now class, as you can see, this is the tickling charm, a rather underestimated spell that, depending on its power, can make it quite difficult for an opponent to concentrate and fight back. Well done, Amanda, you may ---"

"_Tarantallegra_!" I heard Black wheeze suddenly. I turned quickly and was hit in the chest with a jinx.

My legs were no longer under my control. I tried to stop them, but they insisted on doing some strange dance, taking me any which way they pleased.

_Bad legs!_ I thought desperately. _Bad!_

Black caught one of glimpse of me and laughed even harder.

"Glad to be of amusement!" I called over my shoulder as I did a pirouette.

_Levicorpus! _I thought the spell that had become quite popular around the students of Hogwarts ever since James used it on Severus Snape in our fifth year. Black let out a yelp of surprise amidst his laughter as he was suddenly hoisted into the air. He hung upside down by the ankle, laughing uncontrollably and blood rushing to his face.

"_Rictumsempra_!" he managed in between fits of laughter.

_How dare he use the spell I used on him on me!_ I thought in outrage. I attempted to dodge it, but my legs had other ideas, the traitors.

And the, I was being tickled with just the right amount of pressure in all the right places: Behind my left knee, in the hollow of my throat, on my right bu . . . er, never mind. I was so ticklish and I was laughing so hard and it was just so_ funny_. My cheeks ached from laughter and my lungs fought desperately for air.

I attempted to fire another jinx at him, but between shaking from insuppressible laughter and dancing frenziedly my aim was a bit off. I heard a shriek and looked up through watery eyes to see a black-haired Slytherin girl gazing in horror at her hands as her skin rapidly changed to hot pink. Sirius and I both cracked up at the sight of it all over again.

She glared at me and reached for her wand. "You'll pay for that!"

"_Furnunculus_!" I heard and turned my head to see Alice standing on her seat, holding her wand, and looking gleeful at the thought of a fight.

The Slytherin ducked and the spell hit her partner, who screamed as boils erupted all over her body. And so began possibly the greatest Defense Against the Dark Arts class duel Hogwarts has ever known.

People were running and shouting and spells were flying everywhere. It was chaos. I glimpsed Alice jumping from desk to desk and throwing hexes every each way. Marlene leaned against the wall, firing curses coolly and attempting to look as if she was bored, even though I knew she was very well enjoying it. Meadowes shouted at students. A couple snogged behind an overturned table.

I was still laughing, tears oozing out of my eyes, and still dancing, my legs carrying me to the heart of the chaos against my will. I tried to block the spells that came my way, but it was increasingly difficult, and many snuck in. Fortunately, very few of them caused me pain.

"Hey, Amanda!" James came running up to me, beaming, his messy hair a violent shade of yellow. "This is so much fun! You and Padfoot should duel each other more often."

I gave the only response I possibly could, laughter, and James ran off.

_No!_ I wanted to cry after him. _Come back! Take me out of my misery!_

"Enough!" I heard Meadowes shouting. "Put your wands down!" No one listened, of course, the duel raging on. I ducked my head, barely avoiding a blue jet of light. "I _said_ ENOUGH!"

I was in the middle of a fancy leap when my legs suddenly decided to take commands from my brain again and the tickling stopped. I collapsed in a heap to the floor.

My chest heaved and every part of my body ached. My mouth was frozen in a glazed smile and I stiffly raised a hand to attempt to ease it into a painful frown.

The silence after the loud was eerie. Many others lay panting on the floor, too. I raised my throbbing head and saw Professor Meadowes standing on her desk, wand in hand, fuming. She jumped lithely and soundlessly down to the ground, absorbing the shock in the balls of her feet.

"This behavior is unacceptable," she stated softly. "I will not tolerate any of it in future classes. When I give you an order, you obey. Understood?"

There were a few noises of assent, but mostly everyone remained quiet.

"The real world is a dangerous place. And you will never survive it if you do not take my classes seriously." She sighed and sat on her desk. "Class is dismissed for today. The duels will continue Thursday. Anyone who has suffered physical changes, see me."

Groans and moans filled the classroom as people stood exhaustedly. I sat up, feeling the stiffness in my bones, and untangled the hair band from the rat's nest that was my hair. I somehow managed to redo my ponytail. Slowly, I stood.

The class was a mess. Desks were overturned and chunks of the walls were missing. A long line of deformed students trailed from Professor Meadowes, where she sat on her desk, examining student after student.

I saw Lily, whose cheeks were a splotchy purple and nose a splotchy red, glaring daggers at me. Alice was chatting animatedly with some boy who had a shrunken head. At first glance nothing appeared to be abnormal, but upon closer inspection I noticed her eyebrows and eyelashes were missing. I saw the Rosier kid looking sullen with tentacles sprouting out of his face. That helped lighten my mood considerably.

"Hey."

I jumped and spun around to come face to face with Sirius. Before I had the chance to glare, he said, "Let's get out of here. Before she decides we're to blame for all this."

As much as I hated to admit it, he had a point. I nodded and we both inched our way to the door.

"_Not_ so fast, you two!"

Sirius sighed and I groaned. We both turned to see Meadowes striding toward us.

She opened her mouth to speak, but stopped when she caught a glimpse of me. "You have blue eyebrows," she stated. Sirius snorted and I shot him a glare as she waved her wand, presumably fixing my predicament.

"Now," she continued, "I'm not going to waste my time rebuking you. All I want to say is: Work out what ever differences you have or I _will_." And on that menacing note, she turned and went back to examining and treating students.

Sirius and I both exchanged fearful glances before escaping the classroom as fast as we possibly could.

We walked quickly down the empty corridor in silence until we were far enough away to feel safe from Professor Meadowes and her wrath. We slowed to an easy pace.

I took a deep breath. So, she had sort of threatened us. That was ok. It wasn't like . . . like she gave us _detention_ or anything. I shuddered at the thought of another one of those _horrid_ excuses for punishment.

"I liked your eyebrows," Sirius said suddenly, disrupting my thoughts.

I blushed slightly and hoped he did not notice. "Were they _really_ blue?" I asked hesitantly.

"Blue as the ocean."

"Like, a murky ocean or more of a clear one?"

He hesitated, thinking. "Clear," he decided. "They matched your eyes."

I groaned. How embarrassing.

He grinned. "Aw, don't be ashamed! They looked ---"

"_How _did they look, Sirius?" I asked, suddenly defensive, and turned on him. He blinked and looked down at me (Had he always been this tall?). "Terrible, horrid, horrible? I've heard it all before."

He stared at me for a moment longer. "I was going to say cute." He smirked. "But I suppose 'horrid' always works, too."

I glared at him and he held my gaze confidently.

Finally, I turned quickly and continued down the corridor, faster than before. He struggled to match his pace with mine.

"You know, with Evans' cheeks and your eyebrows, the two of you could have joined the circus together!" he randomly spouted, perhaps to confuse me or lighten the mood, I didn't know.

Despite myself, my lips curled up at the corners at the memory of Lily's colorful appearance. "She did sort of look like a clown," I agreed. "Did you see Alice?"

"After or during the duel?"

"After."

"Nah, but I swear I feared for my life when she was dueling."

"She lost her eyebrows and eyelashes."

Sirius snorted. "I bet she likes the look. And what about Sunshine's hair?"

I giggled. "I'm guessing you're referring to James."

"Who else? Oh, did you see Evan Rosier?"

I full on laughed, remembering. That had been karma with a capital "K."

"Uh – huh. And what about ---?" Not thinking of what I was doing, I turned excitedly and grasped his elbow. Our amused eyes met.

Everything came speeding back to me. Who I was, who Sirius was, the full reality of what I was doing. My smile faded and I slowly removed my hand from his arm. We stopped, just staring at each other, even though I so desperately wanted --- no, _needed_ --- to look away.

"Mandy ---" he began.

"_Don't_," I cut him off, but my voice was weak, "call me 'Mandy,' Sirius."

He sighed dejectedly. "Ok."

"What?" I asked, confused enough to be jolted out of my reverie. "'Ok?' That's it? Not even some lame attempt to get me to stop calling you 'Black?' What kind of Marauder are you?"

He gave me a funny look. "You _haven't_ been calling me 'Black."

My eyes widened. He was right. In all the excitement, I had been calling him by his first name. Ugh, no fair! It was such an easy mistake to make! Note to self: Pay closer attention to use of Sirius' --- I mean Black's --- name.

"Oh," was all I could think to say. I turned and continued walking.

The silence was awkward and pressing and I would have broken it, but, alas, I was not gifted in the arts of small talk. I swear, people take those talents for granted too often.

"She --- she wants us to work things out." His words were barely more than a whisper, as if afraid to disturb the still quiet.

"Yes," I agreed in the same hushed tones, refusing to look at him. "She does."

I could practically hear his gulp. "Do --- do _you_ want us to work things out?"

I froze so abruptly that he continued walking for a few steps before he realized I was no longer with him and hastily turned back so he face me. I noticed, nor cared, not, lost in my own thoughts.

_Did_ I want to work things out? I wasn't sure. He had hurt me. Really hurt me. And friendship with him only resulted in infinite amounts of pain and embarrassment, I knew. But . . . when I was laughing with him, just now, at other peoples' expenses I had been so . . . _happy_. I had caught a glimpse of the life I once lived, experienced the feelings I hadn't felt in quite some time. I was careless and free and nothing in the world mattered except that James Potter's hair was yellow and Evan Rosier had tentacles sprouting from his head. No budding war, or cancer inflicted father, or confused emotions. Just us.

_But_, I reminded myself harshly, _pretending it's not real doesn't change anything_. And it didn't. It didn't change that I was still Amanda Johnston and he was still Sirius Black and we were both still two very different people who had once decided to give friendship a shot, but were rudely awoken to reality. It didn't change that there was still a budding war going on outside these walls, or the fact that my father was still dying, or that I was more confused emotionally-wise than ever.

"I --- I'm sorry," I muttered, and darted around him and down the hall before he could see me cry. Who I was apologizing to, I didn't know. I was simply . . . sorry.

Sorry that we weren't meant to be friends then. Sorry that we were obviously not meant to be friends now. And sorry that some things will never change.

OoooooooooooO

**A/N:** Will Mandy ever forgive Sirius? Will she ever forgive herself? IS SEVRUS SNAPE GOOD? Ahem, sorry, got a bit carried away.

So, what'd you think? That was a pretty quick update for me. I feel so accomplished.

Please review?!!!!!

Squid

12


	7. Hate and Horror

**A/N: **Thank you so much for following this story!

Disclaimer: I do not own the sentence Mandy reads from her journal. I got it from Wikipedia, the lifesaver. Oh, I don't own Harry Potter either

**You're an Idiot, Sirius Black**

**Ch.5 Hate and Horror **

_End, end, end. For the love of all that is whole, please end this godforsaken class! _

Similar thoughts echoed through my head as I impatiently drummed my fingers on the table, waiting for the bell to ring while the few stragglers finished up their potions.

_Be over, be over, be over._

Professor Slughorn was giving out the homework assignment, but I did not bother to listen. I'd get it from Lily later . . . .

_End, end, end. Please, please, _please_ ---_

The shrill bell rang throughout the classroom, saving me. I breathed a sigh of relief and stood, grabbing my book bag.

"See you later then, Amanda," Remus Lupin said before I could scamper off, as was custom.

"Uh-huh," I agreed already making my way to the door. "Later." Much, _much_ later, if I had anything to do about it.

I waited in the corridor against the wall, as usual, while students surged through the hallway intent on getting to their next class. When Marlene, Alice, Mary, and Lily came out of the potions classroom, they all looked around for me quickly, and relaxed once they saw me, as if relieved I had made it through the lesson. Their reactions were completely justified, of course. I was relieved I had made it through the lesson, too.

You see, Potions was basically the bane of my existence, my least favorite class. Everywhere else, avoiding him was easy, a piece of cake really. But in that cramped, little classroom, pouring over a steaming cauldron with fumes that made me lightheaded and yet another awkward silence settling in, I would absentmindedly glance up, our eyes would meet, and I would begin to feel _guilty_. Like refusing to be his friend somehow made me a horrible person. And I hated it. Because I _wasn't_ a horrible person. A cowardly one, maybe, but not horrible.

"Are you alright?" Mary asked as they neared me, jolting me from my thoughts.

"Oh, yeah, I'm fine," I dismissed. "Let's just go."

"Are you ever going to tell us what happened between you and Sirius last Tuesday?" Alice asked as they obliged and we walked down the corridor.

"I told you already, _nothing_ happened," I repeated for about the bazillionth time. "We talked about stupid things, like eyebrows, and then went our separate ways."

"Uh-huh," Marlene said with a roll of her eyes. "And because of that 'nothing' you're more afraid of him than ever now."

"I am _not_ afraid of him," I huffed indignantly. "I was never _afraid_ of him."

"Right," Lily said sarcastically. "And Potter and I are eloping this afternoon."

I couldn't resist; she just left too great an opportunity. "Oh! So _that's_ why I didn't get an invitation! And here I was, thinking you had forgotten about me."

Alice covered up her snort with a loud false cough upon seeing Lily's menacing glare.

"I have Muggle Studies," Lily said haughtily and stalked away with her head held high.

"Bye," Mary said softly with a small wave and a smile. She ran off after Lily.

"Reckon she's still the tiniest bit angry with me about the duel?" I asked.

When neither Alice nor Marlene responded, I sighed dejectedly. "Honestly, that girl needs to learn to let go of the past."

Marlene then muttered something that sounded suspiciously like, "Uh-huh. And she's the _only_ one of us who has a tendency to hold grudges . . ."

"Sorry, Mar?" I cocked my head. "Didn't quite catch that."

"Oh, it was nothing," she said nonchalantly.

"Are you sure?"

"Yep. Quite positive."

"It didn't _sound_ like nothing."

"But it was."

I shrugged. "Suit yourself."

We continued to walk when suddenly a little Hufflepuff girl nearby tripped, dropping the tall stack of books she was carrying.

"Oh," I breathed immediately dropping to help her retrieve her books. Marlene and Alice followed.

"I --- I'm sorry," the girl sobbed. "I'm running late for class and --- and I had to return these books to the library and ---"

"Shh, it's ok," I said as Alice rubbed the girl's back and Marlene laid the final books on top of the stack. "See? All done. No big --- wait, did you say you needed to return these to the library?"

The little girl nodded. I chewed on my lip and Alice and Marlene watched me curiously.

"Er, why don't you get to your class and I'll return these for you?"

Her eyes widened. "You'd do that? You're --- you're sure? I wouldn't want to ---"

"No, it's fine," I said, gathering the books in my arms. "I have no where I need to be and you have to get to class."

She nodded and stood. "Thank you _so_ much!" She ran off, still calling thanks over her shoulder.

"Ok, what's the _real_ reason you're taking her books?" Marlene asked with a raised eyebrow.

I shrugged. "I'm a giver. It's what I do."

Marlene's eyebrows simply traveled higher as Alice asked, "Do you want us to come with you then?"

I shook my head rapidly. "Oh, no. You guys go and relax, I'll meet you next class."

Before they could respond, I was zigzagging through students on my way to the library. Part of me wanted to go relax in the common room, too, but another part of me knew I had been putting this off for too long and it was time I got to work.

When I reached the library, I quickly deposited the books in the return bucket, nodded a quick greeting to Madame Pince, and made my way to an isle far in the back, the isle I almost always headed straight for when entering the library. It was secluded and very few students ever visited it, making Madame Pince very unlikely to hover near. One of the reasons I loved it.

Reaching it, I trailed my fingers over the book bindings, scanning the titles I had memorized from reading them so often. I stopped at the end of the isle, and took a deep breath through my nose, smelling the aroma of leather and people and everything a library is. Where to start, where to start?

I reached into my book bag and pulled out the tattered, leather journal my grandmother had bought me for my eleventh birthday. The pages were yellow and worn from years of use. I opened it to the first page and ran my fingers down the faded writing. The first sentence, in a scrawl I knew as my own, read:

_Cancer is a class of diseases in which a group of cells display uncontrolled growth (division beyond the normal limits), invasion (intrusion on and destruction of adjacent tissues), and sometimes metastasis (spread to other locations of the body via lymph or blood). _

I remembered writing that when I was fifteen after I had received the letter from my mother saying my father's condition was getting worse. I remembered deciding my life path, right then. I was to become a Healer and combine my knowledge of the Magical world with that of the Muggle one to somehow find a cure for this deadly disease.

No one knew of the journal I kept. I always thought everyone else would think it was stupid because, honestly, how was an unextraordinary girl with no notable talents possibly going to find a cure for cancer when some of the top research facilities in the _world_ were trying? But at least this way, I felt I wasn't just waiting for someone to save my daddy while I sat around and did nothing. At least I felt that, somehow in some strange way, I was helping.

"Bella puts in a good word for me. She's set on getting me in before I start seventh year."

I jumped slightly at the disturbance to the quiet and looked around; making sure no one was on _my_ isle. No, the voice had come from the isle bordering to mine. I continued reading my journal, trying to decide where I should pick up my research.

"So young? Whoa."

"How does she plan on getting you in, Reg?"

I froze. For some reason the name 'Reg' disturbed me, gave me a sort of feeling like déjà vu. Did I know a Reg? I shook my head. It was probably nothing.

"She says I'm going to have to complete some sort of task, a challenge. And that if he's pleased with it, I'm in."

"Fascinating."

I froze again. I recognized that board drawl. Severus Snape. My curiosity prickled. What was Lily's former friend talking about that he needed to come to the farthest corner of the library to converse it?

No, I shouldn't eavesdrop. Of course not. That went against my morals. But . . . it was quiet back here and it wouldn't necessarily be eavesdropping if I just _happened_ to overhear what they were saying, right?

"Does you cousin have --- have one of _them_, yet?"

"Yep. I've seen it."

"Wow. What does it look like? I've only heard rumors."

I inched closer to the book shelf. What were they talking about?

"Well, it's sort of a ---"

"Quiet!" It was Snape who had hissed out the biting word. What was wrong?

There was silence and I pressed my ear to the books. Footsteps . . . and nothing. Huh. I really kind of wanted to know what they had been talking about, now.

"Mummy never told you it's rude to eavesdrop, Johnston?"

I gasped and spun around. Walking down my isle, were six Slytherin boys, each staring at me in a different way. The two thuggish boys on the end, Mulciber (I knew because Mary, though never actually saying he was the one who hurt her, always shied considerably when he was near) and another boy I did not know, were looking at me, well, thuggishly. Closer to the middle, another boy I recognized not and Evan Rosier were looking like they couldn't wait to tear me limb from limb. Heading the pack was Snape, whom had spoken, wearing a sneer and seeming very bored with the whole thing, as if it was below him.

My eyes traveled to the back of the group, to the boy younger and slighter than the others taking up the rear, and I gasped again. I did not gasp because of his obvious resemblance to his brother, I did not gasp because I now remembered just who 'Reg' was (and I did), but I gasped because of the pure, unadulterated _hatred_ in his gray eyes as he looked upon me. This boy, this young boy with whom I had not spoken since I was six-years-old, hated me, loathed me with every pore of his body, I could tell. Why? Was it because I was Muggle-born? Or did this hatred run deeper?

_What had I done? _

They continued to advance and I retreated back against the wall. Oh, this was not good. Not good at all . . .

"Of course, her mum never told her that," one of the boys I did not know said. "Filthy Muggle trash can't even raise her stupid Mudblood of a child right."

"D-d-don't talk about my mother like that," I stuttered, resenting that I didn't sound brave like I knew Lily, Alice, Marlene, or any other self-respecting Gryffindor would, having been put in this situation. My eyes roamed the small space; they had me trapped and still they pressed in closer.

"The truth hurts, Johnston," Evan Rosier said. "Deal with it."

"What's that?" Mulciber asked, his eyes darting to my journal. "Your diary?"

Before I could respond, his hand flew out and he snatched the journal from my loose fingers.

"Hey!" I cried. "Give that back!"

"Wonder what sort of juicy secrets are in here . . ." he smirked, rifling through the pages.

My face heated up in anger. I held out my hand stiffly. "Give it back please."

"Aw, how cute," Rosier said. "She thinks manners will make us give it to her."

"She should have to beg for it," the other of the boys I did not know said. He reached for his wand. "I haven't used an unforgivable on a Mudblood since June . . ."

I gasped and pressed my back harder to the wall, in a pathetic hope that it would swallow me up. Surely they wouldn't . . . . Just in case, I felt for my wand, but it was not there. Looking up, my eyes widened when I saw Regulus Black twirling it between his fingers. How . . .?

"Quiet, Avery," Snape said. "Remember we're in a library . . ."

"Yeah, wouldn't want Pince to think too bad of your blessed little soul now would you?" Mulciber cackled.

"Oh, I oughta ---" Avery began.

"Shut up, both of you!" Snape snapped. "I did not plan on getting a detention today, and if I do there will be _hell _to pay." That quieted them.

I studied the floor looking for opening, routes of escape. Maybe if I was quick enough, I could crawl between Rosier's legs. But I still needed my wand and journal . . . .

"Let's get her out to somewhere deserted, then," the unknown boy said. "I want to practice . . ."

Hel_lo_? Did they forget I was standing right there?

"_Patience_, Wilkes."

"Yeah, patience Wilksie. Do as your master says."

I gasped and looked up at the familiar voice. Sure enough, there stood James Potter, Remus Lupin, Black, and a short, pudgy boy with mousy hair and watery blues that I knew to be Peter Pettigrew, wands at the ready. The Slytherins, who had spun at he sound of James' voice, had their wands drawn, too.

"Go away, Potter," Snape hissed vehemently. "This is none of your business."

"Oh, I beg to differ," James said conversationally. "You see, Sirius and Amanda were once good friends, making it his business if she was ever in trouble." I clenched my jaw. It was _not_ any of Black's business! "And Sirius and I are good friends now, making it _my_ business if she's in trouble. It's kind of like we're related by marriage, you know? Not that any of us ever married or anything." He glanced at Black worriedly. "Er, you and Amanda never got married, right?"

He looked thoughtful. "Not that I can recall, no."

Snape smirked at me over his shoulder. "Still need Black to fight your battles for you, then? And I had thought you'd finally grown some of that Gryffindor gall."

Before I could respond Black said, "She doesn't need me to fight her battles. I simply choose to help her sometimes because I enjoy beating up Slytherins. And she's braver than you, Snivellus, will ever be."

My eyes widened slightly as I looked at him. He didn't look at me, however, keeping his eyes firmly on Snape, and I wondered if he was doing that on purpose.

"Oh, how touching, Sirius. I'm tearing up at your lovely words."

I whipped my head around, as did everyone else, to see Regulus, whom I had forgotten was there. He glared in glacial fury at his brother.

Now that they were together, the resemblance was striking. Regulus was much shorter and thinner than Sirius, only a few inches taller than me, his skin was a shade or two darker, and his longish black hair was slicked back rather than hanging freely, but other than that they had the same aristocratic lines, the same remarkable gray eyes, the same aura of pride and arrogance just hanging almost tangibly around them.

"Why, do my eyes deceive me?" Sirius cried, grinning. "Little Reggie? It's been too long, brother, too long. Hanging out with the big boys, I see. Does it make you feel _dangerous_, Regulus? Too hang around seventh years?"

Regulus simply continued to glare. "Shut up."

Sirius sighed in mock disappointment. "I can't say I didn't expect our first reunion to be like this." I frowned. First reunion since what? "I was the brother you always looked up to. And for me to just ---"

"I _never_ looked up to you."

"Yeah," Rosier chimed in bravely. "Who would ever look up to a Blood-traitor like you?"

"Don't listen to him, Padfoot," Remus said. "He's still a bit sore abut the tentacles I gave him last Tuesday."

I couldn't help it; being reminded of Rosier's octopus-like appearance caused me to let out a laugh. My eyes widened and my good humor died, however, when Rosier trained his wand on me.

"Thought that was funny, did you, Mudblood?"

Remus made a noise of disgust, James said some inappropriate words, and Peter Pettigrew dived out of the way as Sirius grabbed Rosier by the scruff of his robes and threw him out of the isle to the ground. Sounds of outrage went up from the Slytherins, but before any could react, Madame Pince appeared in the opening of the isle, looking very much like a vulture about to catch her prey.

Her eyes widened as she looked from Rosier on the floor to the wands in the boys' hands, to meek and defenseless little me. It seemed she was so appalled, she could hardly find articulate words.

I used the brief moment of confusion, surprise, and disorientation to my advantage. After quickly kicking Mulciber in the shin and elbowing Regulus in the gut, allowing me to grab my journal and wand, I sprinted all the way to Gryffindor tower, never slowing down one bit, and hoping with all my might no one in that house planned on practicing Unforgivable Curses on Muggle-borns any time soon.

OoooooooooooO

"Wake up, wake up, wake up!"

"No, no, no!"

"Please, please, please!"

"Why, why, why?"

"Quidditch tryouts, Quidditch tryouts, Quidditch tryouts!"

I groaned and peaked over my comforter at the fully groomed girl jumping on my bed. "Why, Alice? _You _are the one trying out. Not me."

"Mandy, you know you promised her," Lily called disapprovingly as she ran a brush through her red hair.

I sighed. Last year, I had promised to attend Alice's Quidditch tryouts because I had never attended them before. Boy, had I been stupid.

"Fine," I moaned sitting up and attempting to blink the blurry sleep from my eyes.

"Thank you, thank you, thanks you!" Alice squealed excitedly and hopped from my bed to Marlene's where she cried, "Wake up, wake up, wake up!"

I tiredly changed into the first clothes I grabbed, not knowing if they matched and not honestly caring.

"Your sweatshirt's on backwards," Lily ever so kindly pointed out and I quickly adjusted it.

"So, Mar, you're going to try out this year, right?" Alice called to Marlene who was using the bathroom.

"And why on earth would I do that?" Marlene called back as the toilet flushed.

"Because you're so bloody good!"

"True. But I'm still not trying out." She walked from the bathroom, brushing her long hair.

"Well why not?"

"What if I don't make the team?"

"Er . . . you get the overwhelming sense of pride and satisfaction for trying?"

"Not a chance." And before Alice could say any more on the subject, Marlene exited the dorm.

"Oh well," Lily sighed rubbing Alice's back, for she looked quite distressed. "At least now you have an overwhelming sense of pride and satisfaction for trying." Alice laughed and nodded.

Every year, Alice and Marlene went through the same ritual: Alice would ask Marlene to try out for the Quidditch team, Marlene would decline, Alice would beg or flatter or both, Marlene would ask what if she didn't make the team, and that would be the end of it. Now, call me crazy, but for some reason I always thought it was a matter of what if she _did_ make the team rather than didn't. The girl just does not believe in commitment. It's why she's never had a boyfriend or even a date, only one-night stands. Well, that's not _entirely_ true. One time, she liked a guy enough to agree to be 'friends with benefits' with him. I know, it was practically marriage for Marlene.

I pulled my wild hair into a ponytail, or what I hoped resembled a ponytail since I had not bothered to tame the mess at all. Then, Mary, Alice, Lily, and I, made our way into the common room, where Marlene was waiting, and down to the Great Hall, Alice skipping before us, hyper as she always got before Quidditch. On the way, we passed Evan Rosier and Mulciber who both glared daggers at me.

"What was that about?" Lily asked as we passed them.

I just shrugged nonchalantly. "Who knows?"

So, I had not entirely told any of my friends what had happened in the library. If I did, they might have started asking questions, which might have led to my location, which would have led to my journal and so forth. And there was a reason I had kept that a secret for over two years.

Plus, I've never been one to share my feelings. I'm better at . . . _suppressing_ unpleasant experiences.

We ate breakfast quickly, Alice practically shoving the food down our throats, and made our way to the Quidditch pitch.

We all wished Alice good luck to which she grinned, not bothering to hide her tremendous excitement as some might have felt compelled to do (coughMarlenecough). She then went to the changing rooms and Mary, Lily, Marlene and I took seats high up in the stands with the few others who had woken early to watch this.

Maybe it was because I was Muggle-born, but I had never quite understood Quidditch. Were brooms used solely because of the connection they had to witches in fairytales? Or was it a completely different reason? Who uses brooms anymore, any way? They should exchange them out for vacuum cleaners. Yes, that would be much more contemporary and fun to watch, I'd say!

"Oh, look, Alice won!" Lily cried elatedly and I was jolted out of my thoughts. Won what?

"She didn't _win_," Marlene said impatiently. "Just flew faster than anyone else. She still has to try out for her position."

Alice would be trying out for the position of seeker, which she had played since third year. Good news was she was practically guaranteed the post unless she really screwed up; bad news was seekers were trying out last, meaning I had to sit through the _entire Quidditch tryouts_ to see her play.

First up, were the chasers, flying around and throwing a ball through the goal posts. Second year Keenan Peakes and sixth year Tiberius McLaggen scored the most and would be joining James, who, being the captain, did not need to try out. Next came keeper. Some redhead fifth year named Gideon Prewett, whom according to Marlene had been on the team since his second year along with his twin brother who played beater, saved all five shots, more than anyone else, winning him the position back. Throughout the whole ordeal, I could not help but wonder if I would have been enjoying it more had the players been flying on vacuum cleaners.

The beaters walked onto the pitch next and my eyes widened slightly when I saw the familiar face.

"Hey, Marlene," I said, prodding the girl in the ribs. "Was Black on the team last year?"

Too my surprise, Mary laughed. "Mandy, even _I_ knew that."

"He got on second year, same as James," Marlene said. "You _were_ friends with him then, weren't you?"

I frowned, trying to remember. Come to think of it, I did recall him saying something . . . or singing it while dancing on the Gryffindor table at lunch with James . . . I shrugged and resumed watching the tryouts.

He would be trying out first. I leaned forward in my seat slightly as he took to the air, earning louder cheers from the bystanders than any other competitor had. Beaming, he flew a lap around the stadium and I rolled my eyes at his dramatic twists and turns. I saw James, on the ground, shouting something and Black grinned, flying to a halt. I peered at the ground as James unbuckled a leather case, allowing two black balls to zoom wildly from its wake. He proceeded to wave his wand and five targets appeared in the air, zooming and darting every which way almost as fast as the balls.

Black made a show of cracking his knuckles before taking after the first bludger. He zoomed quickly and in barely a minute each target glowed gold from being hit. He beamed and shouted something down to James who laughed and gave him thumbs up.

Black then did a victory lap and I had to admire his spirit. The boy sure knew how to work a crowd. For good measure, he drew back his bat and hit another bludger, not aiming, simply beating it as hard as he could, and the crowd below him _ate it up_. Honestly, some people are so gullible.

The bludger was still zooming quickly from the force of his strike and I realized it was coming toward where Lily, Mary, and I sat. I was not worried. It would change direction. It _had_ to change direction . . . .

I heard screams and felt the person behind me dive out of the way.

"Mandy, look out!" I heard.

Change . . . direction . . .

The last thing I saw was horrified gray eyes before everything went black.

OoooooooooooO

**A/N:** Not so sure about this chapter, but I really felt it was necessary to set up a lot of points that will come later in the story. Feedback is EXTREMELY appreciated!

Thanks!

Squid

14


	8. Adventures in Hogsmeade

**You're an Idiot, Sirius Black**

**A/N: **Brace yourselves; this is a long one!

**Ch. 6 Adventures in Hogsmeade**

My head was throbbing dully and it was so heavy I could not find the strength to lift it. "Ow . . ."

There was a shuffling noise and I inhaled the intoxicating odor of musk and cinnamon and sweat. I felt warm air on my face and then heard a throaty voice whisper, "Mandy?"

Wait, I knew that voice . . . .

I forced my eyes open, wanting to see the owner of the voice, but my vision was blurry and unfocused. There was something looming over me . . . a - a face . . . a _beautiful_ face . . .

There was only one possible being the glorious face could belong to: an Angel.

"Am - am I dead?" I found myself whispering to the Angel.

The Angel let out a strangled laugh, full of happiness and hope. "No. No, you are definitely _not_ dead."

"Oh," I sighed, allowing my eyes to slip closed again. "Well, that's good . . ."

OoooooooooooO

When I awoke an undeterminable amount of time later, everything was dark and it took a moment for my eyes to adjust. My head throbbed painfully, but I managed to raise it so I could look at my surroundings, though in the darkness there was not much to see. I was in a bed, it seemed, with the hangings pulled. How had I gotten here . . .? Thinking took too much effort and I lowered my head with a moan.

Suddenly, I heard the sound of the hangings being pulled apart and turned my head to look into a pair of startling, hopeful gray eyes, so bright they practically glowed in the dark. The eyes lowered so they were level with mine.

"Mandy," he sighed, and I could hear the relief in his voice as his prominent white teeth revealed themselves in a genuine smile. "How are you?"

"Headache . . ." I muttered.

I could see the outline of his face now as he nodded. "Yeah, Pomfrey said you might have one of those." He sighed, his breath warming my face. "Listen, Mandy, I'm so sorry. I wasn't thinking, I just hit the bludger . . ." He continued to prattle on as I tried to make sense of his words. Bludger . . . hit . . .

I gasped as memories flooded my mind, threatening to overwhelm me. I got hit by a bludger! And not just any bludger, but a bludger _Sirius_ hit! I propped myself up on my elbows so quickly, I became lightheaded and had to wait out a dizzy spell.

"_You_," I hissed once the spots had cleared from my vision. I felt around the bed. "Where's my wand?"

His eyes widened. "Er, let's not do anything too hasty . . ."

I groaned as my hands met nothing but bed sheets and a mattress. Where was that bloody stick?

Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Sirius lunge suddenly and turned my head a moment too late to see him snatch my wand off my bedside table. Of _course_ it would be there! My headache was obviously rendering my ability to think straight.

I glared at him as he straightened and began to slowly back away from my bed, holding the wand in front of him as if it was a delicate peace treaty.

"Give me my wand," I stiffly commanded.

"Sorry, but I can't do that," he stated matter-of-factly, "until I can be sure you won't do anything you might regret."

"You shouldn't worry," I said in a falsely cheerful voice. "I only intend to inflict physical pain on you and I see no reason to regret that!"

He squirmed uncomfortably. "Er, the bludger hit you pretty hard, Amanda. It might have caused some brain damage . . . like, to the part that gives people the ability to make rational decisions."

"You think I'm being irrational?" I scoffed incredulously. I searched my sluggish mind for a proper insult, shouting them as they came to me. "Git, prat, idiot! You _knocked me out_!"

"On accident!" he defended. "And I don't think you're one to start insulting others' intelligence. Did it ever occur to you to simply _get out of the way_ of the bludger?"

I gaped at him. Simply get out of the way . . . why hadn't that occurred to me?

"Because," I muttered mostly to myself, as I crossed my arms and slumped my shoulders, "that would have made my life far too easy and we couldn't have _that_ now, could we?"

I continue to brood in silence, nearly forgetting Sirius hovering near me. I was only reminded of his presence when I felt my wand fall into my lap. I looked up at him, eyes wide, completely forgetting may anger.

"Sorry," he said, eyes boring into mine so intensely my head was caused even more pain. "I didn't mean to call you stupid or anything, I hit the bludger at you, after all, it's just . . . I can get a bit defensive. It was true, last week, when I said I've been called an idiot a lot."

"Oh," I forced my eyes down to my wand, attempting to fight against the natural reaction of guilt settling in upon me. Unable to stand it any longer, I hurriedly muttered, "Sorry."

To my surprise he laughed, causing my eyes to snap back up to him. "_You're _apologizing to _me_? I knocked you out!"

"Well, I could take it back!" I hotly snapped, feeling my cheeks flush in embarrassment as he continued to laugh at me. "And believe you me; no one is more aware of the current situation than myself."

"Are you sure you're aware?" He continued to laugh ruthlessly. "You might have a concussion . . . ."

I groaned, struggling against the urge to burry my face in my pillows and never take it out, only because I did not want to give him the satisfaction. "Why are you here again?" I instead opted to ask.

"What?" he asked, amusement dripping from his voice. "The man responsible for your horrid condition can't even visit you in the infirmary?"

"Since when have you been considered a _man_?" I bit back snidely.

"Hmm." I heard the sound of shrieking metal and glanced up to see his foot hooked around a chair, dragging it closer to us. Sirius collapsed into it and proceeded to scrutinize me through narrowed eyes. "You know, hits to the head sure work _wonders_ for your personality."

"Oh, excuse me if pain makes me _slightly_ more bitter!" I huffed indignantly.

He sighed and stood, making his way to the door. "You know, I was_ going_ to try and make it up to you, but if you insist on being so -"

I narrowed my eyes at his retreating form. "And how were you gonna do that?" The words were practically torn from my lips and I instantly regretted them when Sirius slowly turned around, wearing a small smirk. Argh, I'm too predictable. Curse me and my naturally inquisitive mind!

I tried to feign nonchalance as I idly played with a loose thread in the bed sheet, though I knew it was about as unbelievable as if Alice pretended to dislike violence. Some things are just natural parts of our behavior, and curiosity, as much as I resented it, was part of mine.

"Oh, you know . . ." I heard him say as I carefully avoided his eyes. "I just reckoned a butterbeer might be good for that headache of yours . . ."

The idea of a warm flask of butterbeer _did_ sound tempting and my throat ached at the thought. But did he honestly think he was going to make it up to me if he brought some?

"You have butterbeer?" I asked indifferently once again.

He let out a sudden laugh that sounded so much like a bark from a dog I glanced up at him, startled.

"Of course not," he grinned mischievously. "Simply _bringing_ a butterbeer would be far too tame and unexciting for my taste. We'd have to get one . . ."

My eyes widened slightly as his words sunk in. "From . . . from the kitchens?"

He beamed roguishly, eyes twinkling. "From Hogsmeade."

My eyes widened even more before I quickly started picking at the sheet again, nonchalance even more forced. "You . . . know how to get into Hogsmeade?"

"Doesn't everybody?" I absently glanced up and his eyes captured mind, a victorious look in them. He had me. He had me and he _knew_ he had me. He knew that the want to simply _know_ how to get out of the castle would be strong and _I_ knew that he wouldn't tell me unless I accompanied him on this excursion.

"You're evil," I breathed as the realization hit me quite hard.

He shrugged. "And proud of it."

"We'll get caught," I pointed out, though the consideration was more to convince _myself_ that this was wrong and stupid than him.

"I have ways around that."

"Someone in the village will send us back."

He rolled his eyes to the ceiling and shook his head sadly. "Honestly, do I look like an amateur to you?"

I pursed my lips and regarded him searchingly. "It's impossible to have an answer for everything, you know."

His lips quirked up at a corner and he brought his eyes back to mine. "Try me."

I was suddenly transported back in time to a place that was happy and energetic and carefree. I was standing outside of a compartment full of boys on the Hogwarts Express and Sirius was telling me to stop calling him by the nickname I had once adored. My heart ached at the memory and tears prickled behind my eyes, though I refused to let them fall.

"Are you always so stubborn?" I asked, voice cracking slightly.

His face softened and he smiled crookedly, obviously not having thought I would play along. "Why of course. Being friends with Amanda Johnston does that to you."

"We're not friends," I reminded him.

He sighed dejectedly. "Yeah, you keep on telling me. So? You up for a little midnight rendezvous? "

I chewed on my lip when suddenly a thought occurred to me. "What about Madame Pomfrey?" Surely she would have heard us by now . . . .

"Don't worry about her," Sirius assured. "I spiked her pumpkin juice with a sleeping serum; she should be out for quite some time."

My jaw dropped as his words registered. "You spiked an _authority figure's _pumpkin juice?"

He rolled his eyes. "You spend far too much time with one Lily Evans."

"You act as if having a respect for authority is a bad thing."

"All right, enough avoiding the subject. Are you coming or not?"

I frowned, slightly annoyed he had picked up on my intentions. I shouldn't go. That would be the obvious, _smart _decision. But . . . how many nights of sleep would be lost, wondering about the many secret passage ways of this magnificent castle?

"Fine," I grumble at last and he beamed. "But only because I am a rather curious person by nature; _not _because I feel inclined to spend time with you."

"Well, I'll take it either way," he said as I swung my legs over the edge of the bed, a wave of dizziness and lightheadedness overcoming me. I gripped the mattress, waiting out the spell impatiently. When I recovered I stood and noticed I was wearing a hospital gown.

"I need clothes," I pointed out, though he was already pulling something from a book bag near the foot of the bed. He pushed into my hands my old green sweatshirt and a pair of pants causing me to narrow my eyes at him suspiciously, wondering how he had come across them.

"Relax," he said obviously guessing my thoughts. "These were what you were wearing earlier; Pomfrey had them. I didn't sneak into the girls' dorms or anything."

"_Can_ you sneak into the girls' dorms?" I questioned, reluctantly accepting the outfit.

His only response was to wink and pull the hangings closed around me.

OoooooooooooO

"Okay, before I reveal anything of importance you need to swear yourself to secrecy."

"Don't you think that's rather unnece -?"

"Swear it!"

We sat on the hospital bed after I had finished dressing and pressed him about his ability to sneak into the girls' dormitory (to which he provided evasive answers that did not really answer anything at all), and he had begun to inform me of "the Plan." Ooooo, that sounds kind of dangerous; I like it. "The Plan," "the Plan," "the -

"Mandy, are you listening to me?"

I blinked as my thoughts were interrupted. "Don't call me that," I replied automatically. "And _yes_ I was listening." I rolled my eyes and raised my right hand as one would in court. "I, Amanda Johnston, swear myself to secrecy."

Sirius nodded to himself and pulled something out of his book bag. It was a cloak, shimmering beautifully like water in sunlight.

"This is an Invisibility Cloak. Ever heard of it?"

I leaned forward interestedly. "Yes. But they're supposed to be really rare." I examined the cloak through awed eyes.

"Oh, they are," Sirius assured. "This one is James' and it's been handed down through his family for ages. He, er . . . he doesn't exactly know I have it and I think it would be best to keep it that way for the moment." He gave me a pointed look.

"Sure," I shrugged. "But you and James should trust each other more if you intend to maintain a _healthy_ relationship."

"We're best mates, not _partners_."

"Could have fooled me," I giggled. "I mean, the two of you are _awfully_ close . . ."

"Oh, shut up," he scowled. "Now - swear yourself to secrecy."

"I just did!"

"Well, swear _again_!"

"Fine," I huffed. "I, Amanda Johnston, swear myself to secrecy _again_."

"I'll hold you to that." He pulled a piece of parchment paper from the bag and pointed his wand to it, muttering what I assumed was some sort of incantation he did not want me to hear. "Here," he said, holding out the parchment. "Feast your eyes upon the Marauder's Map."

I delicately took the parchment from him, slightly bemused, and gasped when what I had assumed to be a blank piece of parchment now showed:

_Messrs. Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs Purveyors of Aids to Magical Mischief-Makers are proud to present THE MARAUDER'S MAP._

I scanned the rest of the parchment and came to the conclusion that this was, indeed, a map of sorts. An intricate floor plan of somewhere was laid out as if drawn upon it, constantly changing. There were multiple moving black dots with captions tagged to them though I did not think much of them. It was only when I noticed a spot with the caption of "Mrs. Norris" did the reality of what this must be finally sink in.

"This is Hogwarts!" I gasped. "But . . . but that's impossible! Hogwarts is unplottable, no one - especially no _student_ - can map it!" I glanced up to see Sirius grinning.

"In case you haven't noticed the Marauders are no ordinary students." He took the map from me. "Okay, we need to get going." We both stood and he held the Invisibility Cloak as if to toss it over our heads. That was when I noticed just how _small_ it was.

"We can't both fit under there!" I cried, jumping away from him.

He blinked. "Yes, we can. You're smaller than James and he fits under it with me."

"But it's so . . . tiny," I protested. "We'll have to . . . touch."

He raised an eyebrow. "I am giving you the opportunity any girl in her right mind would _kill_ for and you're . . . objecting?"

"Well, since when have I ever been in my right mind? Honestly, I'm surprised it took you so long to notice."

He smirked. "Touché. Now, come here so we can get going."

"I told you I'm not going under there with you." Had he not heard me correctly?

He sighed and briefly closed his eyes, probably praying for patience. "Get under the Cloak."

"No."

"Get _under_ the _Cloak_."

"_No_." Why should I do what he says? I bet everyone bows to the will of Sirius Black. Or at least every _girl_. I felt sickened at the notion; that kind of thinking is so _sixties_.

He stared me down and - perhaps it was the drugs Madame Pomfrey had presumably been giving me or the exhilaration of an injury - for once, I held my ground as infuriatingly calmly as he did.

He heaved a great sigh and pulled out his wand, pointing it straight at me. "Don't make me hex you, Mandy."

I gazed wearily at the wand, thinking about his threat to hex me, and decided it was better not to risk it.

"Fine," I muttered. "But you better thank your lucky stars that I am so reasonable."

He smirked and, after coming to stand by me, threw the Cloak over us.

We were much too close. He was crouched down, his shoulder pressed against mine, his breath tickling my skin. I felt enclosed and trapped and wanted to get out, have some breathing room, but I wanted to know how we could possibly get to Hogsmeade even more. I attempted to slow my breathing so as not to touch him any more than was strictly necessary.

He must have understood how truly uncomfortable I was, for he did not mock me or smirk or even look at me, just carefully kept his eyes on that wondrous map of his and acted as if this was a completely normal occurrence. I grudgingly and silently thanked him for that.

"Ok," he whispered and I fought an involuntary shiver as his breath blew against my ear. "The coast is clear. Let's go."

We awkwardly walked through the halls of Hogwarts and, let me tell you, when I say 'awkwardly' I _mean _'awkwardly'. It was difficult, but somehow we managed. We did not run into any teachers, thankfully, but once came near Mrs. Norris. _That_ was an unnerving experience. Can cats see through Invisibility Cloaks? It sure seemed like it . . .

We finally came to a statue of a humped back witch with one eye when Sirius slowed. He drew his wand and tapped the statue, whispering an incantation so low I could not hear it. I drew in a sharp breath as part of the hump on the witch slid up, leaving a hole big enough to admit a fairly thin person.

"Go on." Sirius nudged me slightly with his shoulder.

I gave him a startled look. "I'm not going to be able to fit in _there_!"

He rolled his eyes. "Yes you will. No offense, but . . . well, you're not exactly the most . . . _curvaceous_ person in the world." He gave me an apologetic look.

I blinked at him. I blinked again. I tried to think of some witty retort to his remark as I blinked a third time. And because I could think of nothing to say, I gave a small sigh and, without further ado, hoisted myself up and slid easily through the hole, trying to ignore his quiet chuckles. Honestly, it's like he lives to mock me.

I slid quickly down what might have been a stone slide for a little while before toppling onto cold, damp earth. I scurried to my feet just as Sirius landed beside me, the Map and Cloak tucked away in the bag.

"Smooth," I muttered sarcastically as he, too, got to his feet. It might have been a better insult had his landing not been smooth, though, of course, it was, or at least much smoother than mine.

"You ok?" He asked, brushing himself off.

"I'm fine," I said, looking around. "Where are we?"

"You'll see," he said. "_Lumos!_" he whispered, his wand igniting, and I did the same.

We were in a damp tunnel of sorts with no end in sight. We walked through it, through the twists and turns and dips and rises, and I was panting and sweating and he was breathing like he did this everyday. Then again, maybe he did.

"You're in such great shape," he remarked, as he, once again, waited for me to catch up to him.

"_If I could_ . . . _speak_ . . ." I panted, clutching a stitch in my side, "_I would_ . . . _hex you_ . . . ."

He simply laughed and continued walking with me lagging behind once more.

"We're almost there!" he cried over his shoulder as the land began to rise.

How I made it to the stone steps without fainting I did not know. But I did.

He gripped my elbow and I was far too winded to object. Merlin, I need to work out.

"All right, almost there," he said with the air of a nurse consoling a patient in a surgery, as he guided me up the steps. Suddenly he stopped and pulled me back. He released my elbow and lifted his arms up to push against something. Upon closer inspection I saw there was a trap door in the ceiling and Sirius was pushing it open.

He flashed me a smile and climbed through the door, proceeding to help me up. Looking around, I saw we were in a cellar with overflowing wooden crates and boxes everywhere.

I took a moment to catch my breath before we set up another set of stairs, rickety and wooden this time. We slipped through the door at the top of the stairs and found ourselves behind the counter of a dark, locked up Honeydukes. Sirius smiled down at me and led the way to the entrance of the candy store.

"_Alohomora_," he breathed and with a small _click!_ the doors unlocked. He pulled me outside and relocked them.

We were in the street winding down the center of the picturesque village of Hogsmeade. Street lamps lined the way and lights shown in some pubs and shops while others were dark and guarded at this late hour. The happy chatter of customers and residents out for a late night drink drifted to my ears and a quiet, content peace hung in the air.

I smiled up at Sirius, unable to conceal my awe to even him.

"This is . . . amazing," I said and he smiled back.

"I know." He led me down to the Three Broomsticks, which was notably the most crowded and loud dwelling here.

"Fancy a drink?" he asked, opening the door for me. The warm air wafted through to the brisk night and the idea was very appealing, though I was still nervous.

"What if they want to send us back?" I asked.

He sighed dramatically and rolled his eyes. "Your lack of faith insults me. Come on." He entered the pub and I had no choice but to follow.

Not many people seemed to notice us, too immersed in their own lives, but it felt as if every set of eyes watched us, every mouth moving was talking about us. He guided me to the bar and sat me down on a stool next to a passed out warlock. Sirius sat on the stool next to mine and waved at the barmaid, a pretty, blonde young woman.

"Why, Sirius Black, do my eyes deceive me?" she questioned as she came over to us after setting down a glass she was cleaning. "Aren't you supposed to be in bed right about now?"

"Is that your way of asking for an invitation?" Sirius grinned, leaning on his elbows.

I made a noise of disgust and stared at him in incredulity, but the woman simply rolled her eyes and chuckled. "The charmer as always." She looked at me. "And who's this?"

"This is Amanda Johnston," Sirius said. "I kind of owed her a favor, so I'd _really_ appreciate it if you didn't inform the school about this."

She raised her eyebrows at me. "What'd he do to you?"

"He, er . . ." I glanced sideways at Sirius who nodded encouragingly. "He knocked me out with a bludger."

The woman shook her head and rolled her eyes to the heavens. "Well, since you made such an _awful_ mistake, I suppose I could let you go this _once_ . . ."

Sirius beamed. "Thanks, Rosmerta. I owe you one."

"You owe me about fifty if I remember correctly. I'm Madame Rosmerta, by the way, barmaid of this little place." She shook my hand with a firm grip. "What can I get for ya?"

"Two butterbeers, please," Sirius said. "I would get myself a firewhiskey, but I don't think poor, naïve little Mandy here has ever been near alcohol a day before."

"Don't call me that," I muttered, blushing. When Madame Rosmerta walked away I fixed a glare on him. "And I _have_ been around alcohol, thank you very much!"

Sirius gave me a disbelieving look, but changed the subject nevertheless. "See? Here we are, a couple of students, and no one's given us a second thought. I told you we'd be fine."

"It's pure luck."

"No it's pure _skill_. Don't you trust me?"

I glanced up and his stormy eyes captured mine. I didn't trust him, that was for sure. And yet . . . I had allowed him to lead me through the school, through a dark, secret passageway, and into a village in the middle of the night. If that wasn't trust, then what was?

Perhaps I really _did_ have a concussion. Perhaps the bludger had damaged the part of the brain that allows people to separate reality and the present from fantasy and the past. What other explanations for my behavior were there?

"Two butterbeers." I jumped and turned quickly as Madame Rosmerta set one in front of me and one in front of Sirius.

"Thank you," I muttered as Sirius paid her. I took a sip of the golden liquid and felt warmth spread through my body as the drink slid down my throat. It was lovely and relieved the ache in my throat which I hadn't known was parched until the dryness was gone.

"Good?" Sirius asked softly.

"Wonderful," I answered.

We sipped our drinks in silence and the butterbeer tasted so _good_ that I suddenly felt untroubled or as untroubled as one can be. I wouldn't even care, at least not like I usually would, if he brought up the past; at the moment I was happy and content and I had just snuck out of school and nothing could hurt me.

"Thank you," I said suddenly, the surety of my voice surprising me even in my happy-go-lucky state.

"For what?"

"I don't know," I shrugged. "For this. For the other day when you saved my sorry butt from those Sltyherins. Even if I _don't_ need you to fight my battles and even if it's none of your business should I be in trouble . . . I'm glad you showed up."

A shocked silence hung in the wake. Had I just _thanked_ him for something? Suddenly, I felt embarrassed and busied myself with tracing my right index finger along the edge of my mug.

"You're welcome," he replied at long last. I absently glanced up and, once again, his eyes were like a magnet, I just couldn't pull away. And, in this brief instant in time where I was obviously high on butterbeer and adrenaline and life, I wasn't quite sure if I wanted to.

Someone cleared their throat and my eyes darted to Madame Rosmerta, who looked rather embarrassed as if she had just walked in on something she was not supposed to.

"Want a refill?" she asked and I noticed that, somehow, I had drunk all my butterbeer. How sad.

"No thank you," I said with a shake of my head. My little euphoria of the moment was strange enough; I did not need to add to it if it was truly butterbeer induced.

"You all done then?" Sirius asked and I nodded. He set his mug down. "Right. Let's go."

I sighed sadly and stood up not quite ready to return to school and reality, but when he led me out the pub, he did not walk to Hogsmeade, choosing a different path. We walked down a road to a little clearing and there stood, far above, an old abandoned house which I knew to be the Shrieking Shack. I did not visit it regularly at the weekend trips only having glimpsed it from afar so this was the closest I had ever been.

Its windows and doors were boarded up and its garden was overgrown and dank. The moon cast an ominous glow upon it, enhancing the overall feeling of creepiness, and yet . . . it was intriguing. It had a story and every square foot told a chapter. It was alive and, under the moon, oddly -

"Beautiful," I breathed, leaning against the low fence that subtly cautioned a person's subconscious not to go any farther.

Beside me, Sirius laughed. "Only _you_ would think the most haunted dwelling in all of Britain is beautiful."

I glanced up at him, not appreciating his mocking tone. "_Is_ it haunted?"

He smiled slightly, gazing up at the building. "How should I know?"

I shrugged. "You always seemed to know a lot about the place. So, is it haunted or not?"

He continued to gaze at the Shack, as if mentally debating something. Finally, he looked down at me. "Now, I only have theories, but . . . I think_ something's_ haunting that place. Whether it be ghosts or monsters . . . or simply a bunch of rowdy kids who get a laugh out of scaring someone, there's something there."

I chewed on my lip, mulling over his words and looking back at the Shack.

"What about you, Mandy?" he asked. "Your theories?"

I exhaled in exasperation. "Why do you insist on calling me that?" I asked angrily. "Is it really so ingrained into your mind, that you can't possibly call me anything else?"

At first, he looked shocked at my outburst, but quickly turned to look deep in thought. "I suppose . . . I suppose I call you that because it's the only connection I have left to our friendship, all those years ago. It's the only thing that reminds me it wasn't just a dream, that it actually happened. Maybe a long time ago, maybe for a short amount of time, but it was real. At one point."

I looked back at the Shrieking Shack, attempting to register this. It made sense, in a way. And perhaps . . . perhaps it was for the exact opposite of that reason that I was so desperate for him to quit calling me 'Mandy.' While he was attempting to salvage the final ties we had to each other and to the past, I was trying to sever them. I wanted it all to be just a dream, a fantasy. I didn't want it to be real.

My eyes began to sting and I attempted to blink away the potential tears, but they clouded my vision. I saw something fuzzy, streaks of black, and heard faint _pop!_s.

Wait . . . why would tears affect my hearing?

My mouth slowly opened as I squinted into the darkness, holding my lit wand out as Sirius did the same. Another _pop!_ and another . . . .

Then, only because of the angle the moon pointed at, I saw it. A tall figure cloaked in black with a skull-like mask that was illuminated by the moon's glow, standing near the Shrieking Shack. Another one came into view. And another.

Many of the figures appeared. Together, as one, they strode out of the moon's light.

I felt Sirius' hand on mine, his fingers intertwining with my own, but I did not really notice. He was tugging me, pulling me toward the canopy of trees, whispering my name and how I needed to follow him, that life might depend on it. I was only semi aware of my feet following sluggishly after him. Nothing was making sense.

I was crouched behind a tree still holding his hand, peering into the clearing from behind a tree and bushes and darkness. He had unlit his wand and at some point I had done the same.

They strode past the fence into my line of vision. They seemed much taller than they probably were and commanded attention. They were powerful, ominous beings, stalking through the land as if it were their kingdom and Hogsmeade, which was obviously the destination, was their thrown. They took their time. They were in no rush.

"Death Eaters," I became aware of Sirius whispering in my ear. "Voldemort's followers." In my bewilderment, the fact that Sirius had used _his_ name - a name people had taken to avoiding due to its connection with death and pain and loss - registered not.

My mind was working slowly, like it had when I had woken earlier, however long ago that was. I tried to piece everything together, make some sort of sense of the situation.

"And that . . . that means . . . what exactly?" I managed to whisper.

He fixed his gaze upon me. It was not unkind, simply firm and unyielding. "Think, Amanda. You know what it means."

And, somewhere in the mush of my brain, I understood. As much as I hated to admit it Sirius was right - I knew what this horrid development meant.

Hogsmeade was being attacked.

OoooooooooooO

**A/N:** Dun dun DUNNN! (Ominous music plays)

Well, to all my friends in the states: Happy Thanksgiving! To all my friends not in the States: Happy . . . Life!

So, what did you guys think? I'd love to hear your thoughts! On this chapter, of course, but also on New Moon. I went to the midnight showing and just saw it again today. I liked it; they stayed very true to the book.

Thanks so much!

Squid

15


	9. The Realities of War

**You're an Idiot, Sirius Black**

**Warning:** It's honestly not bad, but there _is_ some blood and wounds in this chapter.

**Disclaimer**: Officially disclaimed.

**Ch. 7 The Realities of War**

I needed to keep my cool. I could not lose my head. I had to stay calm and go about the problem with a rational mind.

Oh, screw being rational! The very village I was currently residing in was about to be ambushed at any given moment! How can anyone possibly stay calm during something like that?

"What . . . what are we going to do?" I managed to ask, voice quivering with fear.

Sirius clenched his jaw as he stared into the darkness where the Death Eaters had disappeared. I could practically see the gears inside his head grinding, turning over every semi-logical option. "We have to get back to Honeydukes," he said at last, his voice soft, yet strong. "It's the quickest way to Hogwarts."

"But - but then we'll have to go through . . . through the attack . . ." He leveled his gaze on me, unwavering.

"I know."

Right. Of course he knew. Of course he had already worked that tiny, insignificant detail into his oh so brilliant plan. Because he was Sirius Black and he knew _everything_, am I right?

Off in the distance there was a crash and the sound of several shrill screams. My heart rate sped and my breaths became shallow as a quaking, irrational fear began to overtake me.

"No," I shook my head hard as if somehow I could sway him. "We can't - _I_ can't - this is crazy! We're just kids!"

"We're of age."

"We're teenagers. Sure, physically we're adults, but mentally we're only children!"

He furrowed his brow, frowning. "So what?"

"So what?" I scoffed. "So I can't do this, that's what!"

"Yeah you can."

I groaned, clutching my head hopelessly in my hands. Oh, sure, easy for _him_ to say! "You don't get it, Sirius. I'm not brave and fearless like you. I can't do this."

Suddenly, he grabbed my chin and jerked my head around so I was staring into his determined, rather unnerving eyes. "Stop saying that. You _can_. You can and you will and you will, not because you're fearless, but because you _have_ to. Because you can either go out there and have a fighting chance or stay here and hide until a Death Eater finds you and kills you anyway. Because no one can hide forever. Understand?"

I blinked and, because I could not manage a coherent response or even a coherent _thought_, nodded lamely.

"All right," he said, releasing me. He exhaled and ran a hand through his hair. "Stay with me. If we somehow become separated, though, get to Honeydukes. We _will_ make it." He gulped, took my hand, intertwining my fingers with his, and gave it a squeeze. "Let's go."

He pulled me from the ground and before I had the chance to process what I was about to do, we were running up the path to the foremost part of the village. Well, _he_ was running, I was really being dragged. But I continued to hold his hand as we stumbled up the cobblestone, grasping it like a drowning person would a buoy, as if it was the only thing that could possibly get me through this mess alive. In all reality, it probably was.

The screams grew louder and I squeezed my eyes shut in some final desperate hope that if I concentrated hard enough, I could somehow be teleported back to Hogwarts, or my home, or basically anywhere but _here_. Though, of course, the screams did not cease, the fear did not fade, and when I opened my eyes I was still nearing the little street, being pulled along by my former best friend, about to dash recklessly into a battle.

"Get your wand!" Sirius cried with the air of a general commanding his troops and I obeyed, fumbling with the stick that seemed to be rather against making things easy on me. He pulled me onto the street, and suddenly the war, which could never have touched me before this moment, became real.

We were in the middle of crossfire, people were screaming, and fighting, and fleeing. The thick smell of smoke was heavy in the air, and the previously calm, dark night was alight with bright spells in every shade of the rainbow flying to and fro. Sirius tightened his grip on my hand and took off running again, in the direction of Honeydukes. We both stumbled and tripped multiple times, and people bumped into us as they fought for their own lives, but we pushed on.

It was almost a surreal experience, like I was watching it from above rather that actually living it. The grave importance of the situation was not able to quite sink in, no matter how many times I stressed to myself that this could be the end. An end was ungraspable.

Sirius absently glanced over his shoulder and his eyes widened. "Get DOWN!" he shouted, pushing me to the ground before I had the chance to react. I fell, skidding my cheek along the pavement and nearly losing my grasp on my wand in the process. My hand instinctively flew over the burn which stung horribly in the biting night wind.

Glancing up, I saw Sirius firing curses over my head in what seemed to be a heated battle. Feet trampled around me, stepping on me and kicking me and tripping over me, and I waited. Simply waited.

_What are you waiting for? Someone to kill you? Someone to fight your battles? Well?_

Once the thought had entered my head, I couldn't deny it. Those _were_ the things I was waiting for, weren't they?

_But why are you waiting for them? You got dragged into this battle, the least you could do is give yourself a fighting chance!_

I closed my eyes, hearing the distinct thud of another person tripping over me. That was similar to something Sirius had said . . .

"_You can either go out there and have a fighting chance, or stay here and hide until a Death Eater finds you and kills you anyway."_

My eyes flew open, mind made up. There was no way I was about to allow Sirius to try and defend me while I laid here and did nothing like a dead fish, waiting for a more efficient Death Eater to come along!

I sucked in a deep breath and rose my feet, ignoring the exclamations of outrage from fleers who jostled around the sudden obstacle I provided. Honestly, people, it does not take that much time to just walk around me!

I saw Sirius fighting madly, dancing through the street, conducting a magical orchestra of light with the baton that was his wand. It was beautiful, really, the way his feet moved, body arched lithely into positions that could not be natural. For a brief moment, I allowed myself to watch him, be awed by him, but quickly reminded myself of the situation. The Death Eater he was fighting was slower, heavier on his feet, but more than happy to use dirtier tricks such as parrying the spells with the bodies of civilians.

"_Stupefy_!" I cried, my shout lost to the roar of wind and fights and battle cries, so no one heard me. But the Death Eater saw the jet of light and dodged it at the last moment, causing it to hit a round man behind him who had been running away. Woops.

The Death Eater shot a curse at me, which I deflected as Sirius continued with his grand menagerie of hexes. I was not as fluid as Sirius and he had five spells flying in the time it took me to shoot out one, but I managed to hold my own. In fact, we would have easily beaten the Death Eater if it had not been for the simple problem that we were so careful of others and he was so care_less_ of them.

I saw my chance when he was particularly preoccupied with a series of dangerously on target spells Sirius had just fired. "_Expelliarmus_!"

His wand went flying into a mass of people and, even though I could not hear him, I saw his mouth form a _very_ inappropriate word. Then, he spun on the spot and was gone. Slowly, not daring to believe it could be finished so quickly, I lowered my wand as Sirius did the same.

_Pop! _

I barely had time to turn in the direction of the noise that signified someone's apparition right behind me before a fist connected with the side of my head and I was on the ground. There was a dull thud near me and, peaking through my eyelashes, I saw the Death Eater laying face down on the pavement. I exhaled and slowly stood, stars dancing in my vision from the blow.

"Oh Merlin, Mandy, are you ok?" Sirius asked and I felt his finger dancing over my skull, checking for damage. "I thought I told you to get down."

I rolled my eyes, unwilling to face fault for the situation. "And I thought _I _told _you_ I don't need you to fight my battles."

He looked down at me, a small smile on his face. "You're right; you don't. But not needing me won't stop me from fighting for you."

I frowned slightly, deeply shaken by his words for some reason. I opened my mouth to respond.

_BOOM!_

The explosion shook the earth, resonated in the cores of my very bones. I was flying backwards, away from Sirius, and heard screams and shouts as the village was abruptly thrown into confusion.

_Crack_!

I hit my head so hard against the pavement, I felt as if my skull might have split. There were no brains oozing from my ears, however, so I assumed I would be ok, but, most likely, many brain cells were lost. So, for future reference, should I do anything stupid, just blame it on the Death Eaters.

I forced my eyes to open and slowly and carefully stood, vision swimming slightly. My hair band had snapped, and my curls were loose around my face. A heavy, smoky fog surrounded me, obscuring all sights and sounds not in the immediate vicinity. The silence was eerie.

"S-Sirius?" I cried into the air, coughing as smoke raced down my windpipe. "Sirius!" No one answered of course.

_Right then_, I thought, closing my eyes. _Get to Honeydukes._ But where _was_ Honeydukes?

Opening my eyes, I gasped as I saw a jet of red light streaming toward me and dove out of the way just in time, so that it hit the glass windows of the abandoned shop behind me, shattering it. I instinctively threw my hands over my face, inhaling sharply as I felt tiny shards of glass penetrating the soft skin of my fingers, palms, and forearms.

_Sirius, where are you?_ I thought desperately.

Gradually the sound of high-pitched wailing drifted to my ears. It was as if . . . but surely there couldn't be a _baby_ here?

I picked up my wand from the ground, wincing as the shards of glass were pushed in deeper. "_Lumos_," I muttered and held the wand in front of me, allowing for a little better visibility. Peering through the fog, I could just make out the silhouette of . . . something that may or may not have been people. The silhouette disappeared into an alley between two near buildings.

I thought of the wailing, like that of a baby's weeps, and followed.

"No, please!" I heard a feminine voice crying as I stealthily slid into the alley, whispering "_Nox_," and keeping to the dark shadows so I was unnoticeable. "Take me, kill me, just let them go!"

There was a Death Eater, tall and dark and cloaked, holding a woman by the hair so she was in no position to move and the vulnerable skin of her neck was exposed. His free hand held a wand which was pointed at a quivering bundle at their feet, where the wailing was emitting from.

"Oh, shut up, will you?" the Death Eater said exasperatedly. "_Silencio_!" The bright light illuminated the bundle for a brief moment before it struck it, the cries being silenced.

My eyes widened. When the bundle had been illuminated I had seen it was comprised of . . . _children_. _Young_ children. Their terrified faces played in my memory. A boy, not much younger than Hogwarts age, attempting to shield the others. A little girl . . . perhaps six or seven? And a baby. A defenseless little baby, who now did not even have a voice.

"Why are you 'ere?" the Death Eater continued, shoving his wand into the woman's Adam's apple.

"Please," she sobbed. "Please let them -"

"Why are you 'ere?" The woman gave a pained shriek as he pushed his wand harder.

"Because - because my husband is away on business and - and it's been a tradition of ours, to take the kids out late one night in their pajamas if one of us is away. It's just a little tradition."

"'Ooze your 'usband? 'Oo is 'ee?"

"I - I don't see how that's of any importan -"

"_Crucio_!"

It was horrible. The sounds of her screams, they crawled under my skin, reverberated in my bones, echoed in my mind, and I wanted, needed, to throw my hands over my ears, close my eyes, and erase the images and noises from my memory, but all I could do was watch with wide, terrified eyes as her writhing limbs burned themselves like a branding iron into my brain where the would forever stay, imprinting there the acts I had seen, things I had done. I did not notice the salty wetness streaming from my eyes, stinging my scrape. All that mattered was how much this horrible, horrible act needed to _stop_ . . . .

And then it did. The screams were gone, the animalistic thrashing body stilled, and a woman was panting heavily in its wake.

"Now . . ." the Death Eater said. "'Ooze your 'usband?"

"Ed - Edgar. Edgar Bones."

"Bones, Bones . . . Ah, the Blood Traitor? 'Eeze a right activist, inee?"

"He . . . he has strong beliefs."

"_Wrong_ beliefs is what 'ee 'as." The cruel creature snickered at his own joke. "Well, I'll show Bones what we do to Blood Traitors . . ." He raised his wand again, but this time leveled it at the three little children in their huddle.

"NO!" Mrs. Bones shrieked. "Don't hurt them - please -"

The Death Eater cackled and cried, again, "_Crucio_!"

My silent crying became sobs that were drowned out by the oldest boy's piercing screams as his little sister cowered with the baby. I threw my hands over my mouth in shock and outrage, wincing when I accidentally poked myself in the eye with my wand . . . my wand . . . My wand! Oh, Merlin's beard, how bloody idiotic can one person be?

I raised my shaking hand to point the blessed weapon at the horrid man, and whispered, "_Stupefy_." The beam of light zoomed from my hand and hit his back, causing him to go stock still and fall to the ground.

I closed my eyes and slumped against the hard, cold wall, cursing my own stupidity. That poor child . . . .

Running a hand over my face, I reopened my eyes to see Mrs. Bones sobbing as she embraced her children.

_Leave_, I silently pleaded. _Just go._

As if she heard me, Mrs. Bones glanced around nervously, gathering her children into her arms and with a quick turn and a small _pop!_ they were gone.

I sighed tiredly. I just wanted to collapse, curl into a ball, and sleep forever, but I knew, as Sirius had previously pressed, it was either keep going or die. So, feeling like I had wrestled a mob of angry alligators, I forced my heavy feet to carry me out into the alley.

"_Expelliarmus_!"

I gasped and spun around, but not before my wand flew away from me and a gloved hand snatched out and caught it. I saw a cloaked figure approach, pocketing my wand, head cocked slightly, mask glinting sinisterly. My subconscious catalogued this all, however the foremost part of my brain was trained solely on the wand in his hand, which was aimed _straight at me_.

"Huh. You never struck me as the type to sneak out of school, Johnston."

My eyes flickered to where I knew his would be. That voice . . . I knew it . . . but from where? I was fairly sure I had heard it at Hogwarts . . .

He regarded me coolly, imposing gaze causing me to take a few small steps away. My foot caught on something and I fell backward, landing on my bottom.

I could nearly hear the cruel smile in his voice. "Pity." He leveled his wand at me.

That's when the realization hit me with the force of a sack of bricks: I was going to die. He was going to kill me, or torture me, and _then_ kill me. Or maybe Imperius me, too. Whatever he was planning on doing, I was sure it involved a sick and strange combination of Unforgivable curses.

I closed my eyes tight, teeth sinking into my lip so hard it bled, and curling up slightly in some vain attempt to be swallowed by the earth. The anticipation was horrid, like walking through a Haunted House, knowing someone is about to jump out from behind a pillar and terrify you, but not knowing when. Any moment now . . .

"_Avada_ -"

"_STUPEFY_!"

My eyes snapped open just in time to see the Death Eater crumple to the ground, stunned. Looking up, I heard footsteps and saw the silhouette of a figure running toward me. I scrambled to my feet as the figure became apparent.

"S-Sirius?"

"How the _hell_ you managed to trap yourself in a deserted alley with probably the last remaining Death Eater is far beyond my -"

I threw my arms around his neck in a tight embrace.

I clutched myself to him, head buried in the crook of his neck, feeling the collar of his shirt dampening steadily beneath my eyes and not honestly caring. I simply needed to hold him, physically touch him in some way, because he was real and familiar and a reminder that, at least for the moment, I was not alone.

I only became aware of what I was truly doing when I felt his hand raise stiffly from its previous position at his side and pat me awkwardly on the back.

Gasping, I retracted my arms and stumbled backward, a furious blush making its way up my neck and to my cheeks.

I just hugged Sirius Black.

He rubbed the back of his neck and I instinctively reached up to fiddle with the end of my ponytail, a nervous habit, feeling oddly empty when I remembered it had come undone.

Sirius Black. Me. _Hugged_.

A scream sounded in the distance, causing both of us to jump, the meat of the tension dissipating. As cruel as it sounds, I was slightly grateful for the poor suffering soul out there who had emitted that shriek. He or she had saved me from a _very_ awkward moment.

"We should - we should go . . ." he said eyes gauging my reaction. "The Aurors turned up and we don't want them to find us . . ."

I nodded, walked over to the unconscious Death Eater, and fished in his cloak for my wand. Pulling it out, I found myself hesitating over the body, fingers itching to crawl down and remove that deathly mask, reveal the identity of my would be killer. But was the knowledge worth it? Did I honestly want to know which of my peers - which school aged _child_ - had sold his soul to the devil?

Another series of shrieks resonated and I spun around, awakened from my reverie. Sirius was looking at me oddly, almost warily, as if I was a time bomb that was slowly ticking away - _tick, tick, tick_ - to a great explosion.

I suddenly had a mental image of my head blowing up.

Gulping, I shook off the thought and gripped my wand tightly, brushing by Sirius and down the alley without warning, simply wanting to leave the horrid place - along with the memories that had occurred there - behind. And yet, the memories pushed their way to the surface, forcing me to relive them.

The thrashing body of Mrs. Bones as she was tortured.

The chilling screams of that innocent little boy, who had done nothing.

The musky smell of spicy cinnamon on Sirius' shirt, mingled with sweat, which, oddly enough, enhanced the enthralling scent . . .

_No, stop right there._ I came to a halt at the mouth of the alley, compelling my memories to do so, too. There would be a time and a place for sorting through them and now was not it.

I jumped when I felt Sirius sidle up next to me, and cringed slightly when he took my hand. Glancing up, I barely glimpsed a look of hurt flash across his face, though, if it had been there at all, it was quickly replaced by a mask of indifference.

"Hood up," he commanded and I obliged, pulling the hood of my sweatshirt over my face. "Come on."

He pulled me into the street where the smoke had cleared. The air was charged with adrenaline and nerves. Bloodied civilians were sobbing and yelling as official looking people tried to get hold of the situation. We walked quickly down the path, keeping to the shadows of the stores, heads down, managing to make it to Honeydukes without being caught. We slipped inside, into the cellar, through the trapdoor, and were about to make our way back to the school when I suddenly remembered something that should have been blatantly obvious.

"The bag!" I gasped. "What happened to it? It has the Cloak and the Map and -"

Sirius rolled his eyes. "Relax; I'm one step ahead of you." He pulled from his pocket a tiny, miniature version of the book bag he had been carrying earlier. "It has everything in it still, see? All's good. Now, are you ready to go back?"

I smiled wryly, beginning to make my way into the darkness. "I have never been more ready for anything in my life."

OoooooooooooO

When I collapsed onto the hospital bed, a half hour later wearing my gown once more, every muscle in my body ached. Muscles I did not even know I _had_ ached.

"Tired?" Sirius laughed. My response was a noncommittal grunt. "Alright, well let's see to those battle scars of yours then, shall we?"

"I'm fine," I protested to no avail, shaking my head. "I can . . . heal myself."

"_Episkey_," he murmured, pointing his wand at the scrape on my cheek. I felt the wound immediately begin to close itself, a new layer of skin replacing the old, and sighed moodily, knowing he was going to administer treatment no matter what I said. Some people are so darn _stubborn_.

Ok, let's all just ignore the ridiculousness of that statement.

I bowed my head, allowing him to heal any cuts or bruises I had. His fingers paraded across my skull, as he murmured low incantations.

"Have you ever thought of being a Healer, Sirius?" I questioned mildly.

He shrugged, nonchalant. "As much as the next wizard while choosing a career path to take. But I don't think I'd have enough patience. Why?"

"I don't know. You just seem good at it."

He chuckled. "What can I say? I'm just a generally talented person, I suppose."

I rolled my eyes. "You are so _conceited_!" I admonished, swatting at him, but wincing when the palm of my hand connected with his arm. He saw the expression.

"What is it?" he asked, catching my hand in his and turning it over for examination. "Oh. How'd you do that?"

"Glass shattered. Other hand's pretty bad, too."

He grinned at me. "You sure managed to cut yourself up." I snorted.

He cleaned up the first hand with some simple healing spells I knew. When moving on to the next one, he said, "Listen . . . I'm sorry I got you into that."

I studied his face. As strange as it seemed, I didn't think he was actually sorry. Oh, I'm sure he felt bad about my wounds and that I had to go through it when I was so afraid. But he was not sorry we ended up in the battle itself. He enjoyed the fight, relished the adrenaline, the feeling of his heart pumping as he cast spells, not knowing how his opponent would react to them. The feeling of putting his life on the line and winning it back against all odds.

It was a strange notion.

But then again, I had the feeling he would say the same thing about Quidditch being played on vacuum cleaners.

"Don't worry about it," I said. "We're here now, alive. That's all that matters."

"I told you we'd make it."

"I'm far too exhausted to play the 'I was right, you were wrong' game at the moment. So, I will take the higher road and give you your little moment of glory."

"You're too kind."

"I know."

"And you say _I'm _conceited."

"You are; I'm merely factual."

A smile tugged at his lips, but for the most part he ignored my remark, finishing cleaning my glass encrusted arms. Stepping back, he teetered on his toes and I chewed on my lips, neither of us knowing what to do now.

"Well," he said at last, breaking the silence, "you should get some sleep. It's been a rough day."

Wasn't that the truth.

"So . . . I'll, er, see you around, then?"

I was about to say, "I guess you'll be forced to in Potions," but for some reason stopped myself. Sirius was right; it had been a long, rough day. I was tired, exhausted really, my body ached, and for once I did not feel the need to be the one to rain on everyone's - including my own - parade.

"Yeah," I nodded. "See you around."

A soft, genuine smile lit up his face. "Night, Mandy. And thanks for coming" He turned on his heel and walked from the room into the darkness, disappearing eerily as the shadows and Invisibility Cloak engulfed him.

I laid my head down on the soft pillows, relishing the cool cushion against the budding ache blooming in the back of my cranium. The night's (well, morning's really) events played like little movies beneath my closed eyes, the brightness of the spells, the screams of the victims.

Sleep would evade me for now.

OoooooooooooO

"Really, Madame Pomfrey, I'm fine. Never felt better."

So, this was not exactly the truth. My body ached, exhaustion colored my every pore, and thin white scars that were the slightest bit sensitive covered my hands. I had seen _far _better days. But my limbs were stiff and the need to walk around was excruciatingly stronger than the pain.

Madame Pomfrey, however, felt I should stay in the hospital wing for the day, mostly because she was baffled and embarrassed as to how she managed to sleep through the whole night, not being there to give me a headache cure potion when I had awoken.

"No, child, I am not risking it, you may have head trauma -"

"Pssh, that's always been there; I was dropped a lot as a baby -" She gave me a scandalous look. "Oh, come on, I was only joking! See? I'm in a great mood and even better health."

Pomfrey surveyed me through narrowed eyes. "Fine," she sighed at last. "But you come back here at the _first sign_ of dizziness, abnormal swelling, feelings of pressure or pain in the cranium -"

"Thanks!" I beamed, sliding from the bed and closing the hangings so I could get dressed. She continued to shout repercussions.

OoooooooooooO

Walking from the infirmary, I barely made it down a single corridor before being attacked by a red haired maniac.

In case you thought otherwise, I was referring to Lily.

"Oh, Mandy, you're ok!" she cried into my neck. "I was so worried! Argh, I'm so sorry, Mandy, for how I've been acting; it wasn't your fault I had to partner with Potter. Well, it kind of was, but that's not the point. What I mean to say is -"

"Lils," I laughed, gently prying her off me. "I get it. Don't stress."

She grinned gratefully at me.

I looked at the others; Marlene leaning against the wall, Alice beaming hugely, and Mary wearing a tiny, genuine smile. A weight of guilt seemed to press down on my shoulders and it took me a moment to realize why.

"Alice! Your tryouts! What happened?"

The spiky haired girl waved my worry off. "I got the position again, of course. We continued after you had been sent up to the hospital wing, the whole team returning. Well, everyone except Sirius that is; he was a right mess, felt _so _bad about hitting you. Anyway, I won by a landslide."

"I'm so sorry! I promised you I'd be there."

Alice smiled and patted my back. "And you were _going_ to be there. You came, which is more than you've ever done before."

With any other person, I might have doubted their sincerity, but I knew Alice was telling the truth. It was honestly the thought that counted to her.

I grinned my thanks and we made our way to the breakfast, chatting idly about nonsensical topics. I had been doing a splendid job so far of not thinking about the morning's events; that was, until post came.

The owls hooted as they swept into the grand room showering us with feathers and presents and letters. Mary received a note from her mother, catching her up on the going-ons of the Macdonald's, and Lily received the Daily Prophet. She took one glance at the head line and sputtered, rifling through the pages to the main article.

"What's happened?" Marlene asked.

"There was an attack on Hogsmeade." Lily's eyes frantically scanned the paper.

Alice sharply inhaled, Mary threw her hands over her mouth, and Marlene arched a brow curiously. I became rather fixated with my bacon.

"When?" Mary asked.

"Early this morning. While we were all sleeping." She lifted her somber eyes, which were oddly shiny. "Three bodies were found. Five have been declared missing. Three - and quite likely eight - innocent lives were torn apart in one instant. Eight families will forever more grieve. And all because of this _stupid_ war."

I frowned, pushing around my eggs, deeply stricken, as the other three talked softly amongst themselves.

Eight people were gone. Could one of them have been someone I had seen, stood near? Perhaps the man I accidentally stunned, a person I had tripped as I lay on the ground, fearing for myself?

My eyes danced down the table though I didn't know what I was looking for until I found it: a group of four boys, who too huddled around a newspaper. As if he could feel me looking, Sirius turned suddenly in my direction and when our eyes connected, I could see the reflection of my own unspoken question.

_Had it been in my power to save anyone? _

OoooooooooooO

**A/N:** Yes, another long chapter. They will probably be getting shorter; not short, mind you, simply short_er_. Because I have a strange inability to do anything short.

So, the point of this was to sort of be Mandy's "There's a War Going on Here" moment, Hopefully, it was relevant.

I know that I am about as amateur as it gets when it comes to writing, so feel free to make suggestions on anything you see that you believe needs or simply has room for improvement. It could be about the story in general, my writing style, characterizations, certain scenes, whatever! I am so grateful for any type of feedback.

Next chapter there should be some lovely Regulus and Jamsey goodness! Because you all know you love them :)

Pardon my longish note. Just had a bit to say. I hope to get the new chapter out soon!

Last but not least, Happy Holidays, friends! In the spirit of the season, please leave a review! And all have yourselves a magical season of miracles :)

Squid


	10. Fate's Good Side

**You're an Idiot, Sirius Black**

**A/N: **100 reviews!! Eeek! You guys are so amazing and I am so grateful to everyone who privileges me with their feedback. Thanks!

**Ch. 8 Fate's Good Side**

I needed to get away.

The realization that a war was going on --- a real _war_ that affected everyone, not simply those individuals taking an active role --- terrified me.

Three bodies found. Five more missing. Eight innocent people who just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.

"Um, Amanda, are you going to pack up?"

I had come so close to death. _So close_ to adding to that body count. So close. If Sirius had been a little further down the street . . .

"Er, Amanda?"

Sirius. That night in Hogsmeade, after fighting for our lives, something changed. We had come to an unspoken, mutual understanding of sorts. We were respectful of one another; mainly he didn't bother me and I was not outright hostile. Some might say that was terrible closure, but it worked for us. Ok, no it didn't. I was still so confused about the boy. I did not want to be his friend again, that was for sure. He had hurt me. We had hurt each other. He was cocky and spoke before he thought and an absolute_ idiot_ . . . and sweet and caring and literally a life saver. Ugh, he made it so bloody hard to hate him!

"Amanda!"

I jumped, startled, and looked up from where I had been aimlessly doodling on a scrap piece of parchment to Remus Lupin, hovering over me with a concerned frown on his rather peaky face.

"Yes?" I asked, voice cracking slightly.

He gave me a strange look. "Class is over."

I furrowed my brow and glanced around the room, convinced there must have been a mistake. The class was practically empty, except for the few stragglers hurriedly packing up, Remus, and me. Huh. Would you look at that.

Blinking, I hastily shoved my things into my book bag.

"Are you feeling well?" he continued. "You've been oddly . . . distant lately."

My eyes widened a fraction. So others had noticed?

"Oh, I'm fine, really," I quickly assured. "I've, er, just had a lot on my mind as of late." Attempting to redirect the conversation from my odd behavior, I added, "What about you? You don't look so great."

It was true. His skin was pale and a bit sickly and there were dark bags beneath his tired eyes.

He shook his head and smiled. "Oh, don't worry about me; I'm fine." I gave him a skeptical look and his grin broadened. "Really. I'm in as good of health as I'll ever be."

I shrugged and stood, slinging the pack over my shoulder. "If you're sure. I'll see you around then."

"Bye," Remus said softly to my back.

Walking into the corridor, a tiny bubble of worry expanded in my stomach. I did not think anyone would notice the subtle change in my persona, for it truly was not a great one. I was retreating into myself, yes, but only the slightest bit, only enough to feel safe and protected from the outside world.

_Coward_, I silently berated myself solemnly. _Poltroon. _

"Mandy!" Alice cried, hopping over and saving me from further craven self-pity. Marlene was not far behind her. "Lil and Mare already went to Muggle Studies. What took you so long?"

"Didn't hear the bell ring," I muttered, blushing at the silliness of that statement. Marlene raised an eyebrow, but questioned no more as we made our way down the corridor.

Alice and Marlene chatted casually about everything from Quidditch to shoe fungus and every once in a while I would throw in my opinion for the sake of not seeming like a complete introvert to the outside eye. After ten minutes or so of lazy strolling, I figured I could risk sneaking off to the library without arousing suspicion, for I had been doing so quite often over the past couple weeks.

I opened my mouth to mutter a hurried goodbye, but lost my train of thought when Marlene suddenly called out with an evil grin to a small group of sixth year boys, "Harold! Oi, Skively!" A curly haired boy glanced up at us, eyes widening. "I had fun last night." He blushed furiously before continuing talking with his friends frantically.

Marlene cackled at his reaction.

"What did you do to that poor child?" I asked as we passed the group.

She shrugged. "Naïve purity is quite the turn on for me. And the innocents are so fun to toy with." Plastering a smirk on her face, she deviously added, "Not that he's innocent any _more_."

"Ew," I muttered as Alice, voice lowered conspiratorially, asked, "So it's true then? I heard in the loo that you were trying to shag every of age male before graduation."

Marlene arched an eyebrow. "Please, Alice. I thought better of you than to listen to such petty rumors. Every boy would be far too easy; it's my plan to shag the girls, too."

Alice and I collapsed into hysteric giggles at the mental image of Marlene jumping an innocuous little girl.

By the time we were sober again, Gryffindor tower was within reach and I honestly did not feel desire to reside there should the topic of the war be brought up, which was not only plausible but probable. In the state the magical world was currently being plunged into, what more was there to talk about?

"Well, I'm going to the library," I said, backing away from the portrait whole. "See you next class!"

Alice frowned. "Again? All you've been _doing_ is going to the library!"

"Well, you know," I grinned nervously. "N.E. and all . . . You can never be too prepared!"

Waving jauntily, I turned on my heel and took off running until I rounded a corner and was out of sight, opting to continue the journey at a brisk walk. When I arrived at the library, I immediately strolled down my isle and sat, settling against the wall and burying my head in my hands, pent up emotions momentarily causing me a head ache.

I knew I was a coward. I knew others knew it, too. I could see it in the faces of Remus and James every time I shied away from Sirius in potions. I could see it in the face of Sirius whenever he made an earnest attempt to be friendly and I was rather cool. I could feel it in my heart whenever I ran off to the familiar library, afraid of what the unknown might bring. I was despicable.

And yet, I did not think so lowly of myself as to try and change my newly acquired ways. They kept me safe, in control, gave me a feeling of stability, which I had lacked for quite some time now. But I desperately needed it. The world was changing. Time was flying. Life was moving, and quickly, too. Sometimes I felt it was all happening _too_ fast, that I needed to catch my breath.

"Here again?"

I nearly screamed as the voice invaded my thoughts, but managed to hold it in, settling on a startled jump. Looking up, I saw my surprise visitor leaning apathetically against a book shelf at the mouth of the isle, arms crossed. I was on my feet, wand drawn, in an instant.

Regulus Black's thin eyebrow arched. "Do you plan on fighting me, Johnston? Because, if so, I must assure you that I _will_ win." He eyed my wand wearily. "So please, lower the stick."

So that he could yet again stealthily steal it from me by means unknown? Ha! I learn from my mistakes, thank you very much!

"What are _you _doing here?" I hissed, cautiously inching forward as to avoid being cornered by him.

"What, a student can't visit the library nowadays?"

"No, I mean what are you doing _here_? No one comes to these isles unless they want to conduct a _very_ private conversation." I surveyed him through scathing eyes. "Or, of course, if they plan on torturing innocent students."

He grinned as I glared. "Ah, still some hard feelings over that little fiasco?"

I gaped at him. Was he_ serious_? "You lot stole my things, insulted my family, and unabashedly discussed torturing me. What were you expecting me to do, greet you like an old chum?"

He smirked, but otherwise ignored my remark. "I came to simply quench my thirst for new knowledge. I'm not familiar with . . ." he stealthily glanced at a book on the shelf and my eyebrows rose at his obvious ignorance to this part of the library, "the works of Diabetes."

The works of diabetes? Was he under the impression that the disease was actually some kind of philosopher?

Playing on this idea, I asked, "You're not familiar with _the_ Diabetes? Have you paid attention in History of Magic at _all_?"

A flash of anger flickered in his eyes and it was not until this brief display of negative emotion did I notice how very different the Black's demeanor was than when I had last encountered him. Then, his eyes had contained a burning hatred, so intense and irrational I feared for myself. Presently, however, they were nearly . . . cordial. Amiable. Good-natured. Though there was an air of concentration and determination in them, too, as if it took all his effort to appear friendly.

Confused as to why this might be, I slowly lowered my wand, though remained tense, unwilling to lower my guard should he be secretly plotting to draw me in with his pleasant eyes before sicking his evil Slytherin friends on me when I least expected it.

He smiled at the gesture and, as if invited, strolled forward.

"I'm Regulus Black," he said, holding out his hand. "I don't believe we've ever properly met, though I suppose that's understandable as I'm a year below you and in Slytherin." He laughed jovially. I stared at his hand. What did he expect me to do with it?

After a moment of silence, he chuckled again, rather nervously this time. "Go on; I'm not contagious."

I chewed on my lip and fiddled with the end of my ponytail, debating whether I should be polite to the fiend or not. At last I shook his hand briefly, muttering a curt "Amanda Johnston," before retracting quickly. My mother would be so proud.

He chuckled again and took a random book from the shelf, leafing through the yellowed pages. "You're here quite a bit, aren't you?"

I merely shrugged stiffly. "I suppose."

He glanced up, a knowing smirk pulling at the corners of his mouth. "Still mad," he stated.

I blinked. This was really weird. I talked to the boy once when I was six (if you could even call what we did 'talking'), met up with him for the second time a mere two weeks ago where he looked at me with utter loathing in his eyes as his mate's discussed my torture, and now he waltzed on over and acted like we were the best of pals who had simply gotten into a minor spat.

Does anyone else feel like they're missing something?

"Are you --- am I --- What's going on?" I stammered.

He furrowed his brow. "What do you mean?"

"I mean . . . why are you doing this?"

"Doing what?"

"I dunno . . . talking to me, reading a book about Muggle diseases, _this_!"

"What are you talking about?"

"I . . ." my voice faltered. I was not quite sure at the moment.

"Are you feeling alright, Amanda? Maybe you should go to the infirmary."

"I don't need the bloody infirmary!" I burst. Then again, my head hurt and I felt rather dazed. "I just want to know why you're doing this!"

"Doing what?"

I opened my mouth, but closed it again when no words were found. "Are you _trying _to make me feel stupid?" I managed.

The corner of his lips twitched. "Now, why would I try a thing like that?" Not waiting for an answer, he tucked the book under his arm and began to exit the isle. "Well, I must be going! Nice talking to you." He threw one last charming wink and a smile over his shoulder and was gone.

What just happened?

I hesitated a moment before sinking back to the floor, rather confused as I replayed the event in my mind. Regulus Black --- a sixth year, Slytherin, Pure-blood elitist --- introduced himself and attempted to engage me --- a seventh year, Gryffindor, Muggle-born --- in conversation. Was nothing in this world right?

Maybe it's just a Black thing. You experience one traumatizing event with them and they suddenly think they're forgiven for whatever crime they've committed.

Huffing, I decided to simply block out the strange occurrence with some good ol' hard work. By the time I had finished innumerable pages of intricate notes and, pleased, decided to retire my research for the day, thoughts of how Blacks must secretly scheme to confuse and infuriate me on a daily basis were the farthest from my mind.

OoooooooooooO

I was sitting in a corner of the common room, watching a couple kissing rather intimately on the sofa. Oh, how I revel in young love.

Ok, so I was _supposed_ to be writing my Defense essay that Professor Meadowes had so rudely assigned. Mary and Alice (Lily excused herself early from dinner and we now had no idea where she might be and Marlene was off on a 'meeting' with some boy) worked studiously nearby, pictures of the perfect students. But let me tell you, it is _hard_ to concentrate on something as trivial as the different forms of shield spells when the most _interesting_ noises are being emitted so close by.

I was not procrastinating, mind you. Simply . . . educating myself on the incredible flexibility range of different humans. Really, I would never be able to forge my body into that position!

Suddenly the portrait hole opened and I raised my eyes to see Lily scrambling through it. Alice, Mary, and I immediately rushed to her upon seeing her rather puffy eyes and menacing expression.

"He's such a _git_!" she cried, as she stormed up to the girl's dorms and we clumsily followed. "They both are."

"Who?" Alice asked, though I doubted she did not know. Only two boys had the ability to send Lily into this state.

"Potter --- he was being sort of --- _sort of_ nice," Lily said, ignoring the question and collapsing onto her bed. "And --- and then _he_ saw us talking and they got into this fight and ---ugh, I hate them! I hate them both!" She buried her face in a pillow and her body shook from tears.

Mary rubbed soothing circles onto her back as Alice and I exchanged sympathetic glances. All four of us knew her words were only uttered in anger and sadness. Lily could never hate Snape and she was far too kind a person to truly hate James, no matter how many times she professed otherwise.

"I wish I could fix it," I found myself whispering. "I really wish I could help you." But I couldn't do anything more than be a shoulder to cry on. Heartbreak hurt. I knew. And the only person who had the power to completely heal a broken heart was the owner.

After quite some time, Lily's breathing and tears slowed and her body stilled. She sat up, wiping tears from her eyes and glancing blearily at her wristwatch. Her eyes widened before she groaned. "I have patrols with Potter in five minutes!"

An idea slowly began to bloom in my head. "Why don't we trade patrols? I'll take yours tonight and you can have mine, which are tomorrow night!"

Lily immediately began shaking her head. "Oh no, I couldn't possibly ask you to ---"

"Yes you could! Please? I really want to help. Besides," I added slyly, "my patrols tomorrow are with Casey Davies . . ."

She laughed weakly and engulfed me in a hug. "You're amazing, you know that, Amanda?"

I grinned, hugging her back, glad that for once I was not entirely helpless.

OoooooooooooO

When I ran down the stairs ten minutes later (I know what you're thinking and I was only five minutes late!), it was to find James standing awkwardly in the common room, hand ruffling his hair. He dejectedly dropped it when he saw me.

"Oh, it's you," he said.

I raised my eyebrows. "No need to sound so disappointed."

He chuckled and shook his head. "Sorry, I didn't mean it like that. I just . . . thought you were Evans. We have patrols tonight."

"Er, actually that's why I'm here. Lily's . . . not exactly fit for patrols at the moment. I'll be filling in." I laughed nervously.

James' face fell. "She's that angry, huh?"

"Er . . ." How was I supposed to respond?

He sighed, most likely taking that as confirmation, before clearing his throat bravely. "Well, should we get going then?" His spirit sure was admirable.

I nodded and followed him from the room.

We walked in silence for what may have been a few minutes or possibly a few hours, a heavy silence pressing down on us. When I felt I could take it no longer, James spoke.

"Does she . . . does she ever talk about me?"

My heart just about broke. "Um, yeah. Quite a bit actually."

He laughed bitterly, seeing through my hollow words. "Does she ever say anything _good_?"

I exhaled heavily. "Not that much, no."

"Yeah, I figured." We lapsed into another silence and, once again, he was the one to break it.

"Why doesn't she like me?" He was frustrated now, I could tell. "I mean, why is she so determined to hate me? I'm not a bad bloke, really, I'm not. I --- I do well in school and I'm a good friend, I know I am! Why can't she see that?"

I glanced up at him, startled at his outburst. What was I supposed to say? I had nothing against James. In fact, I rather liked him. But Lily was my best friend, though I knew she could be biased and opinionated. I did not want to hurt either of them.

Inhaling deeply, I decided I should try to be honest. James deserved that much. "Well . . . you can be kind of . . . cocky, I suppose."

He frowned. "But I'm honestly not! I just . . . like myself . . . a lot. I'm proud of who I am and, well, I don't care who knows it."

"Oh," I muttered, slightly stunned. "Wow. That's . . . like, the type of thing motivational speakers say."

"Well then maybe I should be one of those," he laughed and I smiled.

Sneaking a glance at him, I saw the way he was trying to be positive, but I could tell he was hurting inside. "You really like her, don't you?" I asked.

"More than you could ever know."

"Why?"

He blinked and looked down at me. "I . . . I've never been asked that before."

"Is it because she's the only girl who's ever rejected you? 'Cause I'm pretty sure that's what she thinks."

His eyes widened as he frantically shook his head. "Of course not!" I raised my eyebrows and he sobered. "Well . . . maybe that was why at first. But that was before I realized how bleeding incredible she is." He smiled fondly, thrusting his hands into his pockets and gazing off into the distance.

He was so love struck it was pathetic. I had to do something. Or at least try.

"Merlin, I hope Lily doesn't kill me for this . . ." I muttered and James looked at me in mild curiosity.

"Ok," I continued, business-like. "I'm going to try and help you with her. I can't promise anything. It might not work or it's possible the two of you just aren't meant to be. But what can I say; I'm a sucker for a good romance so I'll give you a bit of advi --- Aaagh!" I was in James' arms and he was spinning me around in the air. "Put me DOWN!" I screamed right as a wave of nausea overcame me. He laughed and set me on my feet, steadying me.

"I could kiss you right now," he stated.

"Unless you want a mouthful of vomit, I suggest you don't."

He grimaced and pulled me along so I could regain my bearings. After a moment of him waiting impatiently, he prodded, "Advice?"

I nodded, blinking away my dizziness. "Lily's . . . an incredible person, but ---"

"I know that already!"

"_But_ she doesn't give her full trust away very easily. She's had it betrayed far too much to do that. And, well, you haven't exactly done a lot to earn it." He opened his mouth to protest but I cut across him. "I think you're an all right bloke, James. And I know _you_ think you're an all right bloke. But look at it from Lily's point of view. For five years you ruthlessly bullied her best friend. Don't deny it, it's true! And you still do, even though you know it hurts her."

He closed his mouth with a "humph," eyes sad. "So you think if I quit hexing Snivellus around her, she might give me a chance?"

I had to respect his casual input of the phrase, "around her."

"She might. If you also stopped acting a bit so arrogant. I mean, er, _confident_."

He grinned. "Tone down the confidence a notch. Check."

Chewing on my lip, I added, "Maybe, for the time being, you should also stop giving her so much attention. Don't ignore her, no! Just stop asking her out, maybe. Don't smother her as much. Try . . . try to be her friend."

We had gradually come to a halt by the end of my little speech and were now standing still, staring into each other's eyes.

"Just remember, James." I said, lightly touching his elbow. "It may not work. Her feelings may not change. And if they do . . . well, it's going to take a while."

A soft smile alit his face as he looked at me. "You know, I never really understood why Sirius was so torn up when you guys ended your friendship. Now I know. You're a pretty great girl, Johnston." Turning, he continued his long stride down the corridor. "Want some of _my_ advice now? Give him another chance."

For a moment I stood stock still, shocked by his forthright words before remembering myself and scurrying to catch up with him, one thought in mind.

Sirius had been given "another chance" one too many times. I was not about to hurt myself by allowing him one more.

But then again, I never had been on Fate's good side.

OoooooooooooO

A/N: How was that for updating soon?

Haha, anyway I hope this chapter did not confuse you _too_ much. I promise it will all make sense in the end!

Please review!


	11. An Ever So Brilliant Conclusion

**You're an Idiot, Sirius Black**

**A/N:** I'm baaaaaack! Thanks SO much for the INCREDIBLE response to last chapter and, once again, sorry for all the confusion with Reg! I remain adamant that it WILL make sense in the end (coughHopefullycough)!

**Ch. 9 An Ever So Brilliant Conclusion **

I was strolling down the main path in the eerily quiet village of Hogsmeade. The shops and pubs lining the street were dark and vacant, perhaps abandoned or simply closed, either way I did not care. All that mattered in this moment was the cool breeze ruffling my hair (which, for some reason, hung around my shoulders), hard pavement beneath the soles of my bare feet, and the blanket of twinkling stars stretching across the inky night sky canvas. I was immersed in my own little bubble, my own sphere of consciousness, and nothing else in the universe could _possibly_ matter.

A chilling scream disrupted the silence, shattering it like fragile glass. I took off sprinting down the road.

My feet seemed to know where they were leading me, even if my mind did not. I found myself running into the mouth of a dark alley that wound between two quaint little buildings. I stopped, alarmed at the sight that lay before me.

Mrs. Bones was writhing and shrieking on the floor, her three children gazing on in horror, a sinister masked man looming over them all. Too absorbed in this treacherous act of cruelty, he noticed me not, though the children and Mrs. Bones did.

_Do something,_ their eyes pleaded. _You have to do something._

They were right; I alone had to act, because I alone had the power to act. I could spare Mrs. Bones and her children and any other future victims of this man. I could do it.

I reached into my robes for my wand.

Then, suddenly and with no pretense, the steel vice known as fear clamped itself around my heart, rendering me immobile. I had to move, had to help, had to at least stop the screams, because the screams were so _terrible_, but I could do nothing.

I was at Fear's mercy.

"MANDY!"

My eyelids flipped open and I stared into a pair of striking emerald orbs, glassy from unshed tears. For one long, terrifying moment I was still in that godforsaken alley, poised to attack. But then I regained myself, who I was, where I was, and the alley was long gone.

Slowly, I sunk back down into bed.

My forehead was sweaty, breathing ragged and uneven, stomach churning. Abruptly nauseous, I gagged, though no vomit was emitted. My bed sheets were tangled in my limbs and I felt incredibly trapped, claustrophobic.

This was too much. I was suffocating. I needed to escape.

In a sudden wave of panic, I thrashed out and nearly fell from the bed.

"Mandy, calm down, it was just a nightmare." A composed, soothing voice interrupted my fit and I felt the gentle pressure of hands on my shoulders, forcing my body to still, my imagination to relax. Glancing around the room, I realized Lily was perched on my bed and it was her voice and hands consoling me. Alice stood next to my four-poster, eyes deep with concern; a seemingly cautious Marlene was a little farther ways away, wand drawn; and Mary peeked shyly out from underneath her comforter. Each of my friends looked to be scared and wary.

Possibly of me.

I propped up on my elbows slowly, deliberately, so as not to frighten them more.

"What happened?" My voice was sandpaper, rough and gravelly, and every occupant of the dorm cringed at the sound of it.

"You were having a nightmare." Lily seemed exceedingly careful as she spoke to me and I felt a twinge of annoyance. I was ok now. There was nothing to be afraid of.

"Yeah," I croaked. "I guess I was. Did I wake you all up?"

A series of noncommittal shrugs from Alice, Marlene, and Lily followed, though Mary softly said, "I was already awake. Had a bit of a bad dream, too."

I nodded understandingly and downcast my eyes, feeling guilty for waking them. "Sorry. I'm fine now. You can go back to sleep." I did not know what the time was, but through our little window I could see daybreak had not yet come.

Alice and Marlene gave me lingering stares of unease before climbing into their beds again, to which I flushed. Honestly, it was a dream and it was over, so why did they act like I was some wild animal, dangerous to the public?

"Do you want to talk about it?" Lily asked quietly, inching forward on my bed.

I shook my head quickly. "I'm fine, Lils, really; it was just a bad dream, nothing to get worked up about."

Lily pursed her lips. "You don't have to act like that. Nightmares are scary, I know. They can crawl under a person's skin and give them bad, pessimistic thoughts. They can overwork their imagination, so events that are hardly plausible seem more than likely. And they can be a great burden. I'm not ashamed to say that when_ I_ have a nightmare, the only way to be at peace with it is to share it."

I turned on my side so my back faced Lily. "I don't need to talk about it."

Lily was silent for a long while and, if the mattress was not still sagging where she sat, I would have thought she'd given up, decided it was just not worth it. Decided_ I_ was not worth it.

"We're worried about you, Mandy," she whispered at long last. "You've been so distant, hardly ever talking and practically living in the library. What's happened? I mean, you acted this way after that fallout with Black and when your dad was diagnosed, but what's wrong now? Why are you hiding again?"

I stayed silent, shocked by her observations. Why _was_ I hiding, really? I didn't know the entire answer to that question. I was just . . . overwhelmed. So much was happening in the world, in my life, and it was all so difficult to face.

"I haven't been to the library in ages," I pointed out. Nine and a half days to be exact. Nine and a half long, _long_ days. But really, who's counting? "Not since –" My voice broke off as I cursed myself for my near blunder.

"Not since what?" Silence. "See, there you go again! Shutting down. Please, tell me what's going on in your head. I want to help."

"I don't need help, Lily." My stubborn tone of voice left no room for argument. "I'm so grateful you want to help, really, but I don't need it! I'm _fine_. Just a little stressed is all. There's nothing to talk about."

Silence again, but then I heard the creak of the mattress as Lily leaned forward and felt her breath tickling my ear. "For God's sake, Mandy, you were blessed with a voice. Use it."

More creaking and the mattress bounced up as it was relieved of her weight. I heard the light patter of her footsteps, the grinding metal of her hangings being pulled back, and then nothing.

I would lay awake in bed until dawn, Lily's final words echoing through my head as shrilly as Mrs. Bones' screams.

OoooooooooooO

The cackling fire cast a warm glow around the nearly empty Common Room, making it the perfect setting for this lazy Sunday morning. I sat with a dressing gown strewn over my clothes, eyes baggy and tired from lack of sleep, waiting for my dorm mates to wake. Every so often an early riser or two would scamper down their dormitory staircase and through the portrait hole, hungry for breakfast, but otherwise the entire Gryffindor house was asleep.

My gaze drifted to the notice board where an announcement stared me down with an angry face, goading me, taunting me. It spoke of how the Hogsmeade trip at the end of October, the first trip of the school year, would proceed as planned, in spite of the attack (though Aurors would be present). An overwhelming flood of emotions surged through me at the thought.

What would my friends say? Marlene would definitely be excited at the idea of Aurors so nearby, and Alice would probably hope the Death Eaters attacked again, simply so she could single-handedly fight them off. Whatever Lily believed, she would be incredibly opinionated, voice her opinions, and, somehow, make us all believe they were the right ones. Mary, of course, would not say anything.

Mary. If anyone needed to talk it was _her_! She was always so quiet, and often got dragged around by Lily or Marlene. But no, _I _was the one who earned the whole "You Were Blessed With a Voice" speech because I was a _little_ quieter than usual. It made no bleeding sense!

Now that I thought about it, the system was very flawed. If a person talked too much, they would be considered annoying, but if they talked too_ little_, they'd be unstable. Humansare so strange.

Groaning, I buried my head in my hands.

"Wotcher, Amanda!"

I jumped and raised my head just in time to see James fling himself over the back of my sofa (a rather deer-like action, if I do say so myself) to sit next to me. The other three Marauders took seats too, in a somewhat quieter manner.

"James," I muttered, running a hand over my face. "You scared me half to death."

"Sorry," James grinned. But he didn't _look_ sorry. In fact, he looked rather amused. Git.

"What do you want?" I continued, far too tired for niceties. He did not seem to mind much, however, and launched right into a rehearsed-sounding speech.

"I'm in a bit of a pickle, Amanda. You see, all that handy advice you gave me the other day got me thinking –"

"Which is a bit of a scary notion in itself," Remus cut in. James glared at him.

"Right, well as I was _saying_, you got me thinking. What would be the best way to become Lily's friend? I turned the options over and over in my head –"

"And when he says options," Sirius said, "he _means_ options. Loads of them. All of which we had to hear him talk about _every waking minute_ of every –"

"_Thank you_, Padfoot." James took a deep breath and forced a smile. "Now. Does anyone _else_ have something to say? Or should I continue?" He looked us over, challenging. I briefly considered spouting some random nonsense just to annoy him, but decided I was too tired.

"Ok, so, I thought over the options and I _may have_ discussed them a little, seeking my best mates' coveted advice. Which, of course, I will refrain from doing from now on." He glared at Sirius. "And I came to one, and only one, conclusion."

He grinned at me, eyes excited. I stared back, wondering what on earth he was waiting for.

"Well?" he asked at last. "Aren't you going to ask what my ever so brilliant conclusion was?"

"Aren't you going to tell me, whether I ask or not?"

"No."

I blinked. "Oh. What was your ever so brilliant conclusion, then?"

"Glad you asked! My ever so brilliant conclusion was that the only way Lily might give me a chance would be if I was friends with one of her friends. _Real_ friends. The type of friends that can, say, trust each other?" Remus rubbed the back of his neck, Sirius cleared his throat, and Peter shifted in his seats. But James had eyes solely for my reaction.

I frowned, a horrid suspicion nagging at my sleep deprived mind. "And which one of Lily's friends did you plan on becoming friends with, exactly?"

James chewed his lip. "Well, it had to be a close friend of course. So that left Mary, Marlene, Alice, and you. And, well, Mary's probably too shy, and Alice and Marlene scare Peter –" Peter blushed and mumbled something unintelligible "so . . . ."

"So . . .?" He was going to tell me. I was going to feign complete ignorance, make him voice his wants aloud. If he really thought his plan so brilliant, he would hold nothing back.

He cleared his throat and pressed on bravely. "So, the only person left is you. The only person that might fit my incredible plan I have concocted is you. I want you to be my friend, Amanda. I want you to be the Marauders' friend."

I gazed at him unblinkingly and he gulped nervously under my stare. "Let me get this straight. You want me to be all buddy-buddy with you and your mates so Lily _might_ give you the time of day, once she sees one of her friends likes and trusts you?"

"No!" James protested, and then grimaced. "Well, kind of. Yes."

"But he hasn't told you the entire plan yet," Sirius spoke up, bold. "Go on, James; tell her what you want her to do. Don't be shy."

James glared daggers at Sirius, but Sirius seemed blissfully unaware.

"Well," James continued with a rather strained smile, " I also thought that, I dunno, after Lily and I grew closer and all – which, of course, we will – she might see how you and Sirius got over your problems and became friends again, and she might, you know . . ." He coughed.

So that was what this was all about. A plan for both James and Lily to become friends and Sirius and I to be friends again. I had to hand it to James: he was sneaky about it.

"I'm sorry, James," I said, standing exhaustedly, "but I can't do this right now. I got absolutely _no_ sleep and I'm a bit irritable." Sirius snorted and I shot him a glare. "Plus hungry. Tired, hungry, _and_ irritable? NOT a good combination with me. So if you _really_ want to negotiate –"

"I told him you'd react like this."

My eyes flashed to Sirius, taking in his expressionless face, casual demeanor.

"Told him I'd react like _what_ exactly?"

He grinned that lazy grin of his, like the rest of the world was completely below him and he did not want to soil his perfection with us little people's trivialities. "You know: all defensive, not willing to hear him out. Though I did expect you to be a bit more . . . vehement, but like you said, you're tired."

The little patience I still possessed was fast thinning. "Oh? This coming from the boy who won't listen to anything he doesn't want to hear?"

James cleared his throat loudly. "Well, I understand, maybe we can talk later –"

"And now you're directing the conversation away from your flaws and toward mine," Sirius cut across James, standing. "Yeah, I told him you would do that, too."

Nostrils flaring, I just managed to keep my temper in check. "And what makes you think you know me so well, Black?"

A disgusting little smirk quirked his lips. "Maybe because I do."

_Patience, Mandy, patience,_ I told myself. _He wants a reaction out of you._ "You don't know me at all," I hissed through gritted teeth.

"Please," he scoffed, still infuriatingly antagonistic. What did I do to make him act this way? What did I _ever_ do? "I know you better than you know yourself."

I gaped at him, no words coming to mind. _He just wants a reaction out of you._ But no matter how much I told myself that, I could not fight the feeling there was at least _some_ truth in his statement. He always seemed to know the perfect way to get under my skin, the perfect way to make me question everything I held for certain. And he _used_ to know the perfect way to apologize so I was sure to forgive him.

But not now. Not this time.

James was clearing his throat again. Was he feeling sick? Because hacking away that vigorously was surely not_ healthy _. . . .

Sirius seemed to be thinking along the same lines, the stupid prat. "Mate, you ok? Need to see Madame Pomfrey?"

"Er, no," James said, sobering. "But I _am_ rather hungry. And so I reckon I should go because, well, you know how I get on an empty stomach! Moony, Wormtail, coming?" Remus and Peter scrambled to their feet and, before either Sirius or I could react, all three left.

Sirius stared at the closed portrait, growling under his breath slightly. Then, suddenly, he smiled and brought his eyes back to mine. That bloke had a serious mood swing problem. Ooooh, wait: he had a SIRIUS mood swing problem! Hahahaha!

Sometimes my sheer cleverness amazed me, it really did.

"What are you all smug about?" Sirius asked, arching an eyebrow.

"Huh? Oh, er, nothing."

"There's obviously _something_."

"And what makes you say that?"

He smirked slightly, and I inwardly braced myself for some more button pushing. "I know you, remember?"

Oh, yes. How could I have forgotten? He "knew" me better than I "knew" myself.

Gritting my teeth, I chose to allow the comment to pass. Let him entertain his childish little fantasies.

We stared at each other a moment longer before Sirius grinned again. "Well, I should be going, I suppose. Best to catch up with the guys."

"Because they couldn't _possibly_ fare without you for one second, right?"

He shrugged lightly. "One second, maybe. But two and you have an utter disaster on your hands."

To my horror, I felt my lip twitch, instinctively trying to lift up into a smile. Why did he have to do that to me? _Why_ did he have to be a complete git one moment and then say something amusing the next? Could he at least warn me first?

This was what always happened when we were kids. He did something rotten (or, at least, not all that nice), I got angry and determined never to speak to him again, he said something funny or heartfelt or both, and my naive little heart was simply forced to forgive him. It was a continuous cycle: Fight, forgive, fight, forgive, fight . . .

"_Difficult for you to hold grudges, is it?" _

"You're not going to win, you know," I blurted, not entirely sure of whom I was talking to. Sirius, the Sorting Hat, or the part of me growing tired of being so resentful all the time? "You're not going to beat me."

Sirius snorted and shook his head exasperatedly. "You just don't get it, do you? I already know I'm not going to win." He brushed past me to the portrait hole. "I'm not competing."

And, before I could even half process his words, he left.

I gritted my teeth as a childish, completely_ relevant_ annoyance (which, by the way, was not fuelled by sleep deprivation at _all_) flooded me. He said he wasn't competing? It was a load of balderdash; I had learned long ago that he was _always_ competing. Always fighting a battle he was sure to win simply because he never accepted defeat.

Well, Sirius Black, prepare to be beaten.

OoooooooooooO

**A/N:** Ok. I know what you're all thinking: "I waited TWO MONTHS for THIS?" Yes, that is rather upsetting; I would probably be irked, too.

I am SO sorry about the TWO MONTH long period of no updates. Some complications sprung up in my life and, having to deal with them, I was literally unable to set foot near a computer for anything that did not involve school work. But everything is _nearly _back to normal and so I am seriously JUST getting back on the computer. JUST.

I haven't responded to reviews in forever, too! Again, so SORRY.

Also, sorry for a chapter I'm rather certain is not my best. I just really felt like I NEEDED to update SOMETHING, to get back in the swing of things. Because I am honestly so out of it.

On another note, anyone been watching the Olympics? Excitement, excitement, though I'm rather sad it's coming to an end:(

**Announcement**: The prologues have been edited! Woo-hooz! I at least hope they are better than they were.

So! Next chapter should be up MUCH sooner than it took to get this one up. Promise.

And, finally, **please review!** If, for nothing else, so I can tell you how incredible AWESOME you are!

Squid

P.S. Sorry (man, I really need to stop being so apologetic) about the LOOOONG author's note!

10


	12. The OFFICIAL Loss of a Mind

**You're an Idiot, Sirius Black **

**A/N: **Thanks to my _loveliest_ brother and sister for such _heartfelt_ opinions of this . . .

**Ch. 10 The OFFICIAL Loss of a Mind**

I was clearly deranged. Why, you ask? Well, aside from the, ahem, _obvious_ reasons, I was currently contemplating doing something I would _never_ ever even _consider_ if I was sane. _Ever_.

So, in case you were wondering, my sanity officially was out the window. Officially.

We were walking to the Gryffindor table at breakfast, chatting about the upcoming Hogsmeade trip and whether or not it was a good idea. Through out it all I only heard select words – "Aurors," "Frank," "Key lime pie" – and even then made no sense of them. My thoughts were occupied elsewhere.

I desperately tried to focus on the floor in front of me, but my eyes continued to flicker toward the far end of the Gryffindor table where the Marauders sat, laughing and talking like the events of this morning had not taken place. Oh, how they infuriated me.

I should _not_ have been entertaining my traitorous thoughts. I should only have been thinking of how, for now, they had given up, for now I was free. For now I could be my usual peppy self and act like nothing in the world was wrong.

And, for the record, I will never refer to myself as "peppy" again.

"I, personally, think it's best this way," Lily was saying as we reached the table at last. "Shows the Death Eaters that they can't stop us from living out lives."

I nodded absently, studying the Marauders once more. Surely I wasn't _actually_ considering . . . .

"Er, Mandy? Are you going to sit down?"

It was a spur of the moment decision mostly. An impulse I was certain to regret later. But I did it and that was all that mattered.

"Actually," I said, turning to my friends, all of whom were seated and waiting patiently for me to join them, "I'm not going to eat with you guys today."

"You're not eating?" Lily asked in alarm. "Mandy, you can't let whatever's bothering you –"

"No, I'm eating," I corrected impatiently. "Just not with you. I think I'm going to sit with . . . some, er, other friends today."

"You have other friends?" Marlene asked, quite rudely if I do say so myself, but I pointedly ignored her. Was the prospect of me having other friends honestly _that _outrageous?

Turning on my heel before the whim could wear off, I walked the length of the wooden table, trying to pretend the many curious stares following me were because my hair looked abnormally nice today.

Oddly enough, I had a rather difficult time convincing myself of this theory. I know, you're all _shocked_.

Remus Lupin was the first to see me approaching. His warm eyes flickered up, an eyebrow arching inquisitively. Peter Pettigrew, seated next to him, saw me soon after, accidentally spilling pumpkin juice down his front. Or at least I_ assumed_ it was accidentally; the boy had always come across as a bit odd to me. But, then again, who was I to judge?

James and Sirius' backs faced me, so they were still blissfully ignorant. A seat was open on Sirius' right, calling me, waiting for me.

"_Come on_," it whispered in a condescending voice, mocking me. "_Sit down. Or are you too _scared?"

Strange as it seems, I didn't _feel_ scared; my mind was still back in bed where my body belonged, achieving the peaceful sleep it deserved. I wondered briefly if this was how bravery felt, but quickly brushed the idea off. This was impulsivity and stupidity and overtiredness; anything but _bravery_.

_Just do it. Just take the seat, don't think, just do._

So, against all better judgment, I gulped in a deep, soothing breath and slid onto the bench, seating myself next to Sirius Black.

And then it was over. Sure people were staring, people were whispering, and Sirius' body had gone suddenly stiff, but I was seated, Earth was still orbiting the sun, and life was moving on.

Maybe – just _maybe_ – I could do this.

"Hi!" I grinned at the boys before beginning to pile food onto my plate. "How are you all on this fine October morn?"

"What are you _doing_?" Sirius hissed in whisper so low I doubted anyone else could hear.

Honestly? No clue. "Proving a point."

"And what point might that be?"

Oh codswallop, I hadn't thought that far ahead. "That . . . that perhaps you don't know me as well as you'd like to think you do."

I glanced up and met Sirius' eyes – they were as expressionless as always, but I could have sworn I saw something flash in their depths. Was it resignation? Respect?

He nodded slowly and leaned back in his seat. "Point taken."

Remus laughed suddenly and I looked sharply up to see his kind smile, a knowing look in his eye. Had he _heard_ all that? Was he some sort of circus freak, skilled in the ability of impeccable eavesdropping? Or what if he could just read minds? Was he reading my mind right now? At this very moment? What if . . .?

"Mandy." I became aware of a hand waving in front of my face and I turned, blinking to Sirius.

"You ok?" he asked concernedly. "You looked like you might pass out on the very spot."

"Oh – er – yeah, I'm fine," I muttered, casting one final fearful look to Remus. "But anyway – James, you don't mind if I sit here today, do you? You know, so we could perhaps get to know each other a little better and maybe even become _friends_?"

James blinked. "Uh, no I suppose not. Make yourself at home."

I grinned and began to tuck heartily into my breakfast (possibly a little _too_ heartily, considering many students were still casting me suspicious and/or curious glances, and I probably looked like a pig. But hey! I was _starving_!). It was not long, however, until I realized the boys were still staring, as if just waiting for me to sporadically burst into flames.

I glanced at them all – James with a nervous sort of smile; Remus with his amused eyes; Peter tensed as if ready to flee at a moment's notice; and Sirius completely unreadable (of course) – and set down my eating utensils. Was there something on my face?

I cleared my throat awkwardly. "Oh, excuse me, where are my manners?" Turning to Peter, I held out my hand and said, "We've never really met before, but, er, never too late I suppose. I'm Amanda."

Peter stared at my hand for a moment before slowly taking it with a timid smile and saying, "Peter Pettigrew."

I nodded and grinned at him. "Peter Pettigrew. Cool name. I've always been a sucker for a good alliteration."

Peter blushed furiously and thanked me as if I had just paid him a hearty compliment. But, who knows, perhaps I did. Maybe alliterations were finally gaining the respect in the world they deserved. About time, if you asked me.

The group lapsed once more into an awkward silence and, at that moment, I would haven a galleon for their thoughts.

Oh who was I kidding, I would have given a knut. Thoughts, no matter how pregnant a silence was, just weren't worth _galleons_.

"So . . ." James drew out the word, making it polysyllable, searching for something to say. "How 'bout them Cannons?"

Jumping at the chance to break the tension, I said, "Oh, yeah, they're really . . ." It suddenly hit me that I had no idea who or what the "Cannons" were. "Er, cannon-ish."

The boys stared blankly for a moment before breaking into guffaws and proceeding to tell me just who the Cannons were and why they were so darn great (I honestly couldn't have cared less, but I was willing to courageously feign interest if it kept the silence at bay). And, just like that, the tension and awkwardness were cut, leaving the following minutes of food and conversation nearly _comfortable_, if that was even possible. I still felt a bit strange, but aside from Sirius no one mentioned how odd my arrival was, or asked why I came, or even acted like anything was out of the ordinary. They were very . . . kind.

Perhaps this hadn't been such a devastatingly horrid idea after all.

OoooooooooooO

Lily seemed to take my breakfast with the Marauders as a personal insult. Whereas Marlene, Alice, and Mary opted to act like the whole incident never happened, Lily was giving off such a cold shoulder – refusing to make eye contact, not once willingly engaging me in conversation, brushing off my attempts to talk to her – it was a wonder I didn't catch frost bite.

At first, I was able to pass her odd behavior off as PMS or annoyance that I sat with an "arrogant toe rag" (her words, not mine), but as the week slowly progressed (with, might I add, hardly any Marauder-interaction at all, due to fear of upsetting her again) and she gave no signs of warming anytime soon, I could not help but wonder if there was something more.

There were moments when I nearly broke, nearly took her by the shoulders and shook her vehemently, shouting, "What did I _do_? Tell me, woman, tell me!" But I kept my cool because I practically _invented_ the art of acting like all was normal in the universe, and if Lily Evans refused to address the elephant in the room, sure as hell _I_ wasn't going to.

Lily never was knowledgeable as I in the Hiding-From-Problems Department, though, so she was destined to crack some day. And this day so happened to come almost exactly one week after the whole ordeal began.

I was sitting in the common room with Alice, chatting about the Chudley Cannons (ever since being informed of the Quidditch team, I found myself talking about it quite a lot), while Mary napped on the sofa, Marlene participated in some rather, er, _illicit_ acts, and Lily studied in the library.

"Surely, their record can't be _that_ bad!" I protested. "I mean, I'm no Quidditch player, but can a team honestly lose _every _game by _that_ much?"

Alice nodded wisely and opened her mouth to respond when the portrait of the Fat Lady swung open and a person came barging in. We both instinctively turned to see Lily, shoulders back, hair mussed (yet somehow upholding her perfection), strutting over purposefully.

"Mandy," she said, stopping in front of Alice and I, "can I talk to you for a moment?"

Glancing over at Alice, who raised her eyebrows, I nodded slowly. "Yeah, sure."

I stood up and followed Lily from the Common Room, wondering if the reason behind her resentment was finally to be unveiled. We traveled down a long maze of corridors and staircases until I absolutely had no idea where I was. Was that the plan? To get me isolated, so she could secretly kill me and dispose of my body where no one would know? Where no one could hear my screams . . . .

But I was getting ahead of myself, of course. Lily would never want to _kill_ me.

Right?

At long last, Lily came to a sudden halt in a deserted corridor and whirled on me. I gulped nervously as she chewed on her lip, perhaps searching for the precise words to begin the conversation.

"Why'd you sit with Potter, Black, Remus, and Pettigrew last Sunday?"

I felt my jaw drop as relief washed over me. _That _was the problem? _All_ this time?

"You've been acting all cold and hostile toward me because of _that_?" I asked, attempting to get the facts straight.

Lily crossed her arms over he chest, pink tingeing her cheeks. "I don't really know if _'hostile'_ is the right word, but – but that's not the point! I just want to know what in _Merlin's name_ possessed you to do something so _stupid_?"

There was an accusatory note in her voice and I felt my defenses automatically rising.

"What does it matter, anyway? It'sover."

Lily crossed her arms and arched an eyebrow. "Why don't you want me to know?"

"Because it's none of your business!" I snapped, feeling on edge all of a sudden. "I don't need to inform you of _every little choice _I plan to make in life."

Hurt flickered deep within Lily's bewitching eyes, but it was quickly replaced with anger and defiance. "I wasn't implying that you did. I just thought . . ."

"Eh? Thought what?"

"That it was odd of you!" she burst, thrusting her hands in the air. "They're the _Marauders_. You don't _like_ the Marauders. _We _don't like the Marauders. Why would you sit with them?"

"I don't know!" I pulled on the end of my ponytail in irritation, nearly yanking it out. "I don't know why I did it; it just sort of _happened_, ok?"

"Mandy, becoming friends with a person is something that 'just sort of happens' – eating breakfast with the boy you hate is –"

"I don't hate him," I interrupted, before I could stop myself. "I've never _hated_ him."

Lily blinked as I cringed at my own words. "You're confunded," she stated. "Either that, or he's drawing you back in."

My face flooded with heat at her insinuation. "He's _not_ drawing me back in. If there is one thing in the world I'm sure of, it's that."

"Then why are you so defensive of him?"

"I'm not defensive of him!"

"Yes you are! Right now you're defending him making you defensive!"

"I – ugh!" As childish as it would be, I desperately wanted to throw my hands over my ears and block out what she was saying. I didn't want to listen anymore.

I sucked in a deep, soothing breath, allowing it to infiltrate my lungs and flow freshly oxygenated blood to my brain. "Let's just drop it, yeah? Forget this ever happened and carry on with our lives."

"Mandy, I'm only trying to protect you."

"Well, thanks, but I don't need your protection. I don't need _anyone's_ protection!" First Sirius, now her? Why were people always trying to protect me? Was I honestly that much of a pushover? Was I really _that_ weak?

Lily huffed. "Maybe if you accepted protection, you wouldn't have gotten hurt the first time around!"

"Don't you have better things to do than this? Like snogging Snape, or something?"

Oh God. Oh _Merlin_. Please, please, _please_ tell me that was merely an irrational thought and did not actually reach my vocal chords. _Please._

But from the charged silence and Lily's wide, shocked eyes, I could tell the word slipped out. I was such an _idiot_. "Lily –" I began, reaching for her. "Lily, I didn't mean –"

"Fine," she cut in coolly. _Too_ coolly. "I'll go _snog Snape_, as you so tactfully put it, and while I'm at it, you can cuddle up next to Sirius Black. Just don't some running to me when he tramples all over you feelings!"

And with that she turned on her heel and stormed down the corridor.

"Fine!" I shouted after her, anger and frustration and sadness boiling in my stomach. "I won't!"

"Good!"

"Good!"

I watched as she turned the corridor and disappeared from view, and then kicked the wall. Which made my big toe hurt. A lot.

Groaning in pain, I slid my back down against the cool stone, head buried in my hands.

"Talking about me?"

I raised my head from my pathetic spot on the ground and nearly groaned again. Of course he would be the one to turn up in my time of need. Because Fate simply hated me that way.

"Of course," I answered bitingly. "Who else could reduce me to a blubbering mess on the floor?"

Sirius snorted and, as if invited, sat down next to me, the rough fabric of his shirt rubbing against my arm. "Had a little spat with Evans, eh?"

"No. I'm just sitting here hopelessly for the fun of it."

"Oh. Well that's a relief."

"I was being sarcastic."

"So was I."

We sat in silence for several more minutes, listening to the distant sounds of teenagers and owls and our own breathing, both unsure of what to say.

Finally, Sirius broke the silence. "Well, I wouldn't stress too much. She'll forgive you eventually."

I looked up at him, despair clear in my eyes. "How do you know?"

"I don't. You just have to have faith, I guess. Faith that one day the stubborn little wench will deem you worthy enough to be her friend again." He grinned wryly. "Even if it takes three or so years for it to happen."

I raised my eyebrows. "Are you hinting at something?"

"Me? _Hinting_ at something? Preposterous!"

I laughed loudly and immediately felt guilty about it. My friendship with Lily was in jeopardy because I got angry and spoke before I thought, and now I was laughing with the cause of our argument. Surely, that wasn't _nice_?

"_He's drawing you back in . . ."_

I stood up suddenly, feeling smothered (ignore the fact that I was in an empty corridor) and needing to get away. "I – I have to go," I stuttered. Sirius made to stand up, but I quickly pushed him back down (a bit too forcefully; he probably won't be able to sit for the next week and a half). "No – stay here. I mean, you can go if you want to, but don't feel compelled –"

Not even bothering to finish my sentence, I turned and sprinted away from him, no clue where on earth I was headed, simply running. And crying. And running some more.

Because could I honestly do anything else?

OoooooooooooO

**A/N:** Thus, Mandy now knows how easy it is to say something horrid you don't mean just because you're angry . . . .

So! Next chapter Regulus will be reappearing . . . what's he up to, you ask? Well, read the next chapter (which should be up soon . . . hopefully) and see!

Thanks LOADS to all the incredible people who endured with me through last chapter! You rock!

Squid


	13. A Helping Hand

**You're an Idiot, Sirius Black**

**Disclaimer: **I only own the clothes on my back. And those were a gift.

**Ch. 11 A Helping Hand**

Stretching in the early morning light, I blinked the sleep from my eyes and expelled the sluggishness from my limbs. The only sounds in the dormitory, alit with the soft glow of a rising sun, were the quiet breaths of my sleeping dorm mates and slight creaks of my mattress as I fidgeted.

I lay in bed for a few minutes, reluctant to wake up and face the day. Would it be possible to simply stay here forever, trapped in the strange place between Sleep and Consciousness, the outside world too far to reach me? Probably not. The outside world had a horrid habit of reaching me, no matter how hidden away I was.

With a sigh, I swung my legs over the edge of my bed and stood. The other girls were still sleeping soundly, so I tiptoed across the floor to the bathroom, trying my best not to wake anyone. After quickly freshening up, I treaded back to my trunk, clad in a fluffy towel. Because my luck was simply amazing, I accidentally stepped on a Muggle shaving razor lying in the middle of the carpet. How that even_ got_ there, I have no clue.

"Ouch!" I shrieked, clutching my foot and bouncing around, whilst attempting to keep the towel wrapped securely around my body should anyone decide to sporadically wake. I lost my balance and fell on my bum, only just restraining some rather unbecoming words.

Don't ask me how, because I honestly had no idea, but they managed to sleep through my clumsiness and pain. What talent.

I clambered up and quickly changed into my usual weekend attire. After sliding my feet into my trainers, I padded to the dormitory door, congratulating myself on a successful evasion of talking about my feelings.

"Mandy?"

Spoke too soon. Of course.

Groaning quietly, I turned to see Mary's face poking through her hangings, eyes not quite focused. "Where are you going?" she asked, words slurring slightly.

I chewed on my lip, debating between the truth and a lie. Ah well, the truth wouldn't hurt. Or at least some of it. "Breakfast. I woke up fairly early and didn't honestly feel like waiting for you all."

It took a moment for my words to process in her sleepy mind. At last, she nodded. "You didn't get in 'till late last night . . ." She yawned. "Did something happen with Lily?"

"Oh, erm, kind of. We had a bit of a row and, well, some things were said . . ." I allowed my voice to drift off, silently begging for the interrogation to end. What if she asked what was said? Would she hate me for being so insensitive?

"Oh."

We both stared at each other for a long moment, Mary's eyes fluttering closed every few seconds. I began to inch toward the door, wondering if she would notice my departure.

"Mandy?"

I froze. "Hmm?"

"No matter what happened, I'm still your friend. And I'll always be there if you need someone. I'm sure the same goes for Mar and Alice."

I smiled softly. "Thanks, Mare. That really means a lot to me."

She nodded one last time before disappearing behind the hangings. Fighting against the growing sense of loneliness crushing my heart, I left for breakfast.

-X-

I pushed my eggs about the gold plate, no longer hungry. It was difficult, eating in such an eerily quiet setting. In all my years, I had rarely ever eaten in the Great Hall before the Breakfast Rush (especially on a Sunday) and had grown accustomed to the low buzz of voices that was always present, preventing silence. Now, however, only a select few students were scattered throughout the massive room: a group of first-year boys at the Slytherin table, some studying Ravenclaws, three chit-chatting Hufflepuff girls, and me. Professors Meadowes, Flitwick, and McGonagall ate and whispered up at the staff table. A stray toad croaked.

"AMANDA!"

"Aargh!" I fell rearward off the wooden bench, landing with my back flat against the floor. Blinking, my eyes focused on the cheerful face grinning down at me.

"Mr. Potter!" Professor McGonagall snapped and James glanced up, smile turning sheepish.

"Sorry, Professor!" he shouted, even though the Great Hall was virtually empty and his voice echoed off the walls. "I will no longer disturb you! Really, it won't happen again, I swear! Well, at least not this morning. Any other time is fair game, I fig –"

"Potter!"

James moved his attention back to me, snickering at her annoyance like the toddler he was. He held out a hand which I gratefully accepted, allowing him to help me to my feet.

"Thanks," I muttered, reclaiming my vacant seat. James sat himself next to me. I watched with interest as the rest of his posse slid onto the bench across from us. "So? What do you want _now_?"

James clutched at his heart, feigning insult. "Why must I always _want _something? Can I not just enjoy a nice breakfast with my favorite . . . er, blonde, every once in a while?"

"Hey!" Peter exclaimed. "I thought_ I_ was your favorite blonde!"

"Don't be ridiculous, Wormtail," James scoffed. "You're not blonde."

"Yes I am!"

"No. You're not. Anyone with eyes could see your hair is light brown!"

"I dunno, Prongs," said Remus, examining Peter carefully. "It's pretty blonde."

Sirius, grinning roguishly, said, "But Mandy's is both pretty _and_ blonde. Surely you can understand, Pete?"

I raised my eyebrows at his exaggerative wink in my direction. "Alright, now I know something's up. I haven't been complimented on my hair in . . ." I frowned, working through dozens of memories that involved conversations about my tragically underappreciated locks, "a really long time."

"You haven't?" James gasped, twiddling the end of my ponytail. I sighed. This was getting old. "Why not?"

"Your hair's so . . . pretty," Remus agreed.

"And blonde!" chimed Peter.

"Yes, I think we've established that my hair is both pretty and blonde," I interjected. "But that does not make me daft, so I know you're just trying to butter me up for something."

"Ok, ok, you caught _us_," James huffed, overdramatic yet again. "We actually are only complimenting your hair so we can lure you off to an empty classroom and have our wicked way with you."

The boys erupted into raucous laughter (causing many of the early bird students enjoying peace and quiet to throw them dirty looks) and, despite my awesome efforts to be stern, I felt an involuntary smile flit across my lips. "First off, ew. Secondly, I'm being serious."

More immature snickers. Perhaps they had been tampering with cheering charms this morning? "You're not _Sirius_ . . ." They giggled at the stupid pun and my temper involuntarily rose.

"Remember the other week, when I said I don't do well on and empty stomach with little sleep? Well, I woke up abnormally early this morning and I haven't eaten yet . . ."

Needless to say, they sobered up rather quickly.

"Right." James cleared his throat. "Well, Padfoot here informed me of a rather distressing piece of news last night: that you and one Lily Evans are in the middle of a disagreement?"

I glowered at Sirius, who suddenly seemed to realize that buttering toast required intense concentration.

"Yes," I assented, turning back to James. "We've had an argument."

"And were we," he gestured to his fellow Marauders "or were we not the cause of this argument?"

"Not. I mean, yes. Sort of. Well, not really, I suppose. You were more the cause of the conversation that led to the argument."

James arched an eyebrow, an amused smirk inching its way across his face. "Is that your final answer?" At my irritated glare, he hastily continued. "Anyway, since it was my _entire_ fault –"

"Didn't I just say –?"

"– and because I am so chivalrous, I decided I should help you. You know, give you a shoulder to cry on, a friend in a friendless time, a light in your tunnel."

A light in my tunnel? Was it just me, or did that sound a bit dirty to anyone else?

"Now, before you go all close-minded on me," James continued, "let me point out that many beautiful young people such as yourself would _die_ for the opportunity I am about to present."

Ha, nice try, James. Flattery will get you nowhere.

"How would you like to fly with the Marauders for a while?"

I hardly refrained from rolling my eyes. That was his offer _again_? You know, for being an incredible prankster and all, he sure was lacking in the creativity department. "Sorry, but my answer hasn't changed from two weeks ago."

"But the circumstances are different now!" James cried, slapping his palms on the table for emphasis. My plate rattled and some porridge slipped onto my lap. Brilliant, Potter. Just brilliant. "The tables have turned! Your friends have abandoned you –"

"They have _not_!"

"You've resorted to eating earlier than any human being should."

"I woke up and didn't feel like waiting."

"And your life in general is going to the dogs."

For some odd reason, Peter found this hilarious all over again.

"To the . . . dogs . . ." he choked. "The last place it will be going is to a _dog_ . . ."

Remus sighed as Sirius deadpanned, "Very subtle, Pete. Really."

"Oh, come on!" Peter exclaimed. "That was ironic and you know it!"

Feeling thoroughly confused, I looked questioningly back to James, who simply shook his head with a "Don't-Take-Anything-He-Says-Too-Seriously" face.

"What would the point even be of hanging around you?" I continued after an uncomfortable pause. "Lily and I aren't really talking at present, so your plan's pretty much shot . . ."

James shook his head in mock distress. "Amanda, what kind of person do you take me for? I would _never_ abandon a friend simply because they're not of personal benefit to me."

"Plus, wasn't Lily angry with you in the first place for getting a little over friendly with us?" Sirius added, leaning forward so he stared directly into me eyes. Why did he have to do that? Couldn't he realize that his eyes always exhibited such a steely magnetism it was nearly impossible for me to turn away? "So, why not get friendly? What's holding you back?"

"Fear," I murmured automatically, the single word practically wrenched from my lips. But once it was out in the open, I could not deny it. Fear was what held most people back, wasn't it? The fear of change, of disappointing others, of failure, of pain. Fear, the anchor that tied the ship in place, prohibiting it from sailing out into the vast ocean where swashbuckling adventure awaited. Fear.

A tiny smile quirked on Sirius' face – it was amused, without being mocking, understanding without being piteous. "What's there to be afraid of?"

Under normal circumstances I could have most definitely listed a myriad of reasons to be fearful, but my mind was suddenly blank – all I could fathom was Sirius' dark eyes, eyes that were always, no matter what, so _fearless_. So opposite from my own.

"The Mandy I used to know would have taken the chance. Why don't you?"

I tried to think of an excuse, of something, of _anything_, but staring into his challenging orbs, nothing seemed to make sense anymore. Nothing except one word.

"Ok."

-X-

"I heard she rescued Evans from a burning building and ever since they'd been best friends. But then Evans just goes and chucks her –"

"Lily Evans? She tutored me in charms last year and is way too nice to pull a stunt like that. What _actually_ happened is that Johnston killed that Macdonald girl's pet rabbit and Lily knew she was trouble –"

"But why would the Marauders take in a rabbit killer? It makes no sense!"

"Maybe they're a bunch of rabbit killers, too?"

"I refuse to believe that _the_ Sirius Black is a rabbit killer!"

"Peter Pettigrew could be though! Sometimes, he looks like he has the potential to kill rabbits –"

And with a lazy flick of his wand, Sirius shut the gossiping second-years up.

"Ugh!" I groaned, clutching my head in my hands and sinking lower in the sofa. "How do you put up with stuff like that? It's torture!"

"We're the Marauders," James stated, without even glancing up from the notebook he was scribbling in. "We're impervious to gossip."

"She thought I had the potential to kill rabbits!" Peter cried. Oh, Peter, there could be such worse accusations. For instance, she could have said you were being drawn back into the self-harmful ways of your former best friend. Not that I would know what _that's _like, or anything. Cough.

"Impervious, Wormtail," James reminded. Peter gulped, before nodding and continuing to rant over how unfair his Herbology essay was.

"Pete, you've had a whole week to complete that essay." Someone nudged my foot and I raised my head to see Remus smiling warmly at me. "You ok?"

"Yeah," I nodded. "The whispers are just so . . . _annoying_. And they remind me of when –" _When people had something worth whispering about._ When my friendship with Sirius ended. "Never mind, lost my train of thought."

"Easily distracted much?" Remus laughed, playfully bumping my shoulder with his, and my heart reluctantly swelled. Because as much as I would love for them to be bunch of imperfect jerks (emphasis on_ imperfect_), the Marauders were quite possibly the most accepting single group of people I had ever met.

I glanced absently at the stairs leading from the girls' dorms at the sound of rushing footsteps to see Lily, Marlene, Alice, and Mary bounding into the Common Room. Lily's eyes locked with mine and she froze. Surprise and hurt shone in their depths, but they quickly hardened and she stormed toward the portrait hole. Alice grinned sheepishly and Mary mouthed "_Miss you_," before they scurried after.

Marlene strutted over to where we sat, dropped an envelope in my lap, and perched on the arm of James' chair by the crackling fire. "The owl dropped that on your bed and it's addressed to you."

I gingerly turned over the envelope to indeed see the familiar elegant scrawl of my mother etching my name into the ivory parchment. "Thanks for bringing it to me; you didn't have too."

"Oh, please," Mar scoffed. "Anything to get away from Lily for five minutes. I love her to death and all, but she has control freak tendencies that only you can reign in."

I chuckled and, tuning out Marlene's propositions to James, shook the letter into my hand. Silently praying it would not bear bad news, I began to read:

_Dear Mandy, _

_Can you believe you've been at school for nearly two months now? I sure can; every moment I'm away from you feels elongated, stretching on toward forever. Now, that may sound cheesy to a groovy teenager like yourself, but it's the truth! _

_So, how are you? Keeping up your marks? Managing to be punctual for classes? Flirting with cute boys? Oh, don't give me that look; yes, that's the one. The one that clearly screams, __"Mum!"__ I know it embarrasses you and that you don't think you have enough time for dating, but that Johnny Nix boy – the fit one you used to fancy – was asking about you the other day and I think he might have taken a liking to you. _

_Alright, enough boy talk – here's a little recap of what's going on in this neck of the woods:_

_That stupid dog of yours got himself bit by a squirrel and had to have a rabies vaccination. Henry's getting into a bit of trouble at school (nothing major, but we want to be cautious) and I think it's because he misses you (though he'd never admit it). Your Aunt Jeannine popped in unexpectedly on us for a few days – that woman is too unpredictable; I always lock up my expensive jewelry when she visits. And your father . . . well, he misses you, too. A lot._

_As for me, I'm hanging on. Life gets tiring sometimes, but I never stop living it. The option can be tempting though. _

_Oh, Mandy, Christmas holiday honestly can't come soon enough. We need that special light only your smile can bring, that way with words you have to make everything seem like it will be ok, the bravery and strength you exude when all's wrong. We need you._

_I love and miss you, my angel. See you at Christmas._

_Love,_

_Mum _

A tear splattered the page and it was only then I realized I was crying. Wiping the wetness from my cheeks, I straightened to see Marlene and the boys watching me warily.

"What's wrong?" Sirius asked, voice quiet.

"I – er – nothing. Nothing at all. I'm just gonna go for a walk . . ."

And I was gone.

-X-

The letter was balled in my sweaty fist as I pushed my pumping legs through yet another corridor. My mother's words played over and over in my head – _"Life gets tiring sometimes, but I never stop living it;" ". . . the bravery and strength you exude when all's wrong;" "We need you."_

I didn't quite know why the letter distressed me so; perhaps because it made me sound like some courageous saint when I was anything but. My smile did not bring a "special light," I was cowardly and weak, not brave and strong, and_ I_ needed _my family_ – not the other way around.

Plus, now I felt considerably selfish. Henry was getting in trouble – _my_ Henry, my _baby brother_: quiet and reserved around strangers, but rambunctious and familiar with family and close friends. I never took the time to learn how he coped at home when I left for school. He was only nine years old, Dad was so sick, and Mum's life was practically centered on making Dad better. When I was gone, Henry had no one to play with, no one to remember him. My mother was amazing, honestly, but she was juggling a lot and he was just a _little kid_ . . .

This was too much. I needed to scream, to hit something, to at least _talk_ . . . but my lips remained sown shut, fists curled tightly at my sides. Oh, God, there was no escape, was there? I could run from experiences and people – but thoughts and feelings, works of the mind, would always be with me, refusing to be locked away. Was this my destiny? Was I meant to suppress everything, silently wasting away in the prison of my own head, until I finally burst twenty-four years later and end up blowing the entire country of Wales off the planet?

Looking back, it really was a wonder that Lily managed a whole six years as my friend. I'm a nut job.

Before I had time to contemplate this further, a gust of air whooshed by my ear. My stomach flip-flopped, and then I was lying facedown against the cold stone floor. What happened? I glanced at my trainers to see if the shoelaces had come undone, but they were still messily knotted into bow. Perhaps I had tripped over the hem of my robes?

"Hullo, Johnston. Fancy meeting you here."

I sat up quickly and spun around to see two boys, clad in Slytherin robes, striding toward me, eyes gleaming with malice. A cruel smile adorned Evan Rosier's face.

Well that was just swell.

"And, what, might I ask –" No, you might not, but something tells me you are going to anyway, "is a little Gryffindor like yourself doing all the way in the dungeons?"

For the first time I took notice of my surroundings, and saw that the walls were indeed gray and stony, and the corridor dark, lit only by dim torches that cast flickering shadows across the floor.

"Oh, er, my bad, I didn't realize I was in the dungeons," I said, scrambling to my feet and hoping against hope that I did not look half as crazy as I felt. "So, I'll just be, erm . . . leaving now . . ." I smiled brightly and attempted to skip past them.

Yeah, like it would be that simple.

Mulciber caught my elbow, jerking me to a stop, as Rosier whispered in a deadly voice, "Not so fast, Johnston. You see, I'm a little angry with you at the moment. You got me a month's worth detention for that stunt you pulled in the library back in September."

I gawped at him. Was he serious? "I don't know if it slipped your mind, but _you _attacked _me_. You got yourself detention."

"Well, we wouldn't have attacked you, if you hadn't been such a filthy Mudblood, now would we? So, in the end, it's you fault," he reasoned.

I shook my head in astonishment and pushed Mulciber's hand from my arm. "I'm _so_ not in the mood, right now. I'll let you off with a warning and just go –" Mulciber abruptly grabbed me, wand jamming into the crook of my throat. My voice faltered and fear seized me. _Don't panic._ "I'm a prefect," I tried again, but even to my own ears the effort was feeble. "And I'm friends with both the Head Girl and Boy, so if I were you I'd –"

"Please," Rosier chuckled. "The whole school knows Evans has dumped you, and you don't have the backbone to snitch, anyway. You're completely . . . alone."

No, no that wasn't true. People cared about me, loved me, were there for me. I was not alone, not in the slightest.

"What should we do to her, Aidan?" Rosier asked. I did a double take. _Aidan? _Huh.Who knew Mulciber had a first name. Of course, logically I always understood this, but psychologically people like him – people who beat and scared the living daylights out of kind, innocent girls like Mary – never really registered as _people_. In my head, knowing his first name – the name that his parents _personally_ decided on, probably with their heads bent over a long list of possibilities at a white kitchen table, eyes bright with the wonder of a new baby – made him seem so much more . . . human. "Do you think we should go with what you did to Macdonald that time?"

But he wasn't human. He was a monster.

"Nah, this one's too strong-minded." Mulciber's deep baritone rumbled through his chest, shaking me. I leaned forward against his arms, not wanting to feel him, but he only clutched me tighter. "Macdonald was weaker."

I stiffened. How dare he call Mary "weak?" Hardly anyone knew exactly what he put her through – but whatever it was, it was wrong and torturous. Mary was quite possibly one of the strongest people I knew and this _imbecile_ had no right to suggest otherwise.

"Yeah, ok, I see where you're coming from. What about that kid in third year . . .?" Their voices carried on, as they discussed torture methods like sane people would the weather.

Slowly, I reached my hand into my robes, fingers wrapping around the handle of my wand. I inched it out, careful; miraculously, the menacing idiots were too distracted to notice my actions.

You know, whoever came up with the notion that Slytherins are cunning was obviously a druggie.

My wand was out. Oh, thank Merlin. I could do this, I could do this, I could do this –

Rosier absentmindedly glanced down at me; eyes widening a moment too late as I lightly pressed the tip of my wand to Mulciber's thigh. _Levicorpus!_

Mulciber yelped as he was hoisted by the ankle upside down. And then I was ducking underneath him, running wildly for my life.

"OI! Come back here you little skank!" Rosier shouted after me, but I was gone, bounding deeper into the dungeons. Ha, who did he think he was, the Queen of England? Ordering me to come back with foul insults and lethal weapons was _not_ going to work.

Again, there was that swooping sensation in my stomach and again I was falling to the floor.

"Tripping jinx," I vaguely heard Rosier remark. "Useful little spell, wouldn't you say?"

I could come up with quite a few words to describe the tripping jinx, and "useful" was not one of them.

I inhaled sharply as I felt someone crouching over me, breath sickeningly hot against my ear and fingers like steel on my arm.

"Now, don't try and run away this time," Muliciber growled. I cringed as his moist lips brushed my ear. "Wouldn't want to ruin all the fun, would you?"

_Fun?_ The rational part of my mind managed to think. _What part of this is fun?_

With seemingly no effort, Mulciber lifted me to my feet. Once again, I tired to push his hand away, but this time he did not budge.

"Let me go. Please," I whispered. I could hardly believe I was actually _begging_. All I knew was that Rosier and Mulciber were pressed against me, I _could not breathe_, and I needed out. "I swear I won't tell a soul. Just let me go."

"You're not very bright, are you?" Rosier asked, trailing a long finger along my jaw, down my arm, and to my hand. He pried my fingers off my wand. "Most people just have to be in our way to deserve a beating. You, on the other hand, got us a _month's worth of detention_."

"In translation," Mulciber murmured, "you are not being let go. _Not ever_."

For one second, the world stopped spinning.

What did he mean by "_Not ever_?" They were not seriously planning on . . . killing me, were they? They would never get away with it. They'd be kicked out of school, tossed into Azkaban. Killing me would ruin their lives.

Unless . . . they weren't caught?

"Look, Aidan, she's _crying_," Rosier sneered. Damn you, overactive tear ducts. Damn. You. "What's wrong Johnston? Scared? What kind of Gryffindor are you?"

"_Hot-headedness is the trademark of a Gryffindor. Something_ you're_ obviously not!"_

Almost of its own accord, my arm wrenched itself from Mulciber's grasp and slapped Evan Rosier around the face.

Yeah. _Slapped_ him. And want to know how this gets better? I was too angry to even feel guilty about it.

He seemed a bit in shock that I slapped him (_Me_! _Slapped_ him! Ha!), raising his hand to gingerly trace the welted cheek. The sight kind of made me feel . . . _good_. Empowered.

I think I could get used to the feeling.

"You sicken me," I hissed, simply because I was on a roll, so why stop now?

He glowered through the golden fringe flopping onto his forehead, angry gray-blue eyes the exact shade of a hazy sky. Pride swelled within me because even though my eyes did not reflect the same courage as Sirius' or beauty as Lily's, I knew for a fact that they would never ever contain as much _hatred_ as this boy's. And for that I was grateful.

"Right back at'cha, babe," he snarled and then, before I had time to blink, he threw me into the wall.

Stars, bright colors, fuzzy images clouded my vision – I couldn't see. Oh, God, I was blind. There was no way to fight back, I was so out of control, where were they, why wasn't I in pain . . .?

Footsteps. Footsteps echoing off the walls, reverberating through my head, disorienting me. Footsteps were coming closer.

"Picking on girls a quarter your size again, Mulciber?"

That voice. I knew that voice. I had committed it to memory weeks ago in case I happened to catch it in the hallways and needed to duck behind a tapestry. That voice was the voice coming between my father's cure and me. I _abhorred _that voice.

Why was he here? To finish me off? To laugh at my pain? To simply laugh at me in general?

I urgently blinked the final blurriness from sight so I could know what on earth was going on.

"Oh, look," Rosier drawled at the raven-haired boy standing calmly across from him, "here comes the noble Regulus Black to once again play hero."

Regulus grinned. "Aw, Evan, we both know I'm about as noble as you are. I simply thought we had an agreement. You know, a _vow_ of sorts."

Rosier shrunk back, face abruptly chalk-white. My imagination whirred. What was this vow, and why was it so terrifying? Was "vow" code for, say, "Kill the innocent girl?" And Rosier's supposed dread was simply an act to keep me in the dark? I remembered Remus and his strange mind-reading abilities. If only he was here.

"I didn't violate any agreement, vow or otherwise."

"No, I suppose you didn't," Regulus acquiesced, examining me shrewdly as if I was some bacteria under a microscope. "But you came awfully close. Now, give her wand back."

Automatically, Rosier tossed my wand to my lap. I stared up at him with wide, surprised eyes.

"Ok, now leave," Regulus ordered. Fully expecting the boys to refuse, being the entitled bullies they were, I was once more shocked. With nothing but mumbled objections and disdainful glances, they retreated back down the dim hallway.

I watched their fading backs, sitting straighter against the wall and hugging my knees to my chest. Could it really be over, just like that? Had I honestly cheated death yet again? How . . . anticlimactic.

"They only ever pick on people smaller than them," Regulus remarked and I whipped my head around, nearly having forgotten he was there. My muscles tensed and my fingers clasped my wand. "And they seem to have taken a particular liking to you."

I snorted. Was that supposed to be a compliment? "Oh, erm . . . thanks . . ."

He chuckled. "It was your bloody luck I happened to be taking the longer route to the Common Room and heard you crash into the wall. I'm guessing you would not be very well off right now, if I hadn't."

I cringed as my mind's eye attempted to demonstrate exactly where I would be.

"Yeah, that would've been tragic," I agreed. "So . . . thank you, I guess."

"My pleasure."

We were both silent for a moment (could it _be_ anymore awkward?) until I finally blurted, "Why'd you do that?"

He cocked an eyebrow in confusion as if he did _not_ just save me from certain death. "Do what?"

"You know . . . rescue me." My neck flushed; "rescue me" sounded _so_ pathetic. "I mean, it just doesn't seem like . . . you."

His eyes narrowed as he regarded me coolly. "How would you possible know what's 'me' or not? You don't know me."

I was struck by his sudden change in demeanor, from cheerful amusement to cold hostility in a split second. He was as bad as Sirius.

"Maybe not," I agreed, "but I know that you're a Slytherin from a Pureblood maniac family, and that you can somehow pickpocket my wand so I don't notice a thing from meters away, and you hate me –"

"I never said I hated you," he interrupted. "You can't know my feelings."

I paused, thinking up a reasonable response. "I know what I saw," I said at last and even though it may not have been built on solid evidence, it was the best I had, "and what I saw was hate. At least on that day in the library, you absolutely loathed me."

Regulus' face shown mild surprise and he studied my form like he was truly seeing it for the first time. Finally, he crouched in front of me so we were eye-level. "Mandy," he began; I started at his use of my nickname, "have you ever had the feeling – the completely irrevocable feeling that you _must_ know someone? That maybe you were meant to know them?"

"Erm . . . no, not really."

"Well, that's how I feel about you. And I . . . I _need_ to be your friend."

His depthless eyes were so sincere; much more so than I had ever seen them, free from hatred or false pretenses. There was no forced air of calm, kindness, or anger, simply . . . Regulus. And yet . . . .

"I don't believe you."

The words spilled from my mouth before I could stop them, and I knew immediately they were the wrong ones. Regulus visibly began to close off, face hardening, leaning back on his heels, eyes once again flat.

"It doesn't matter if you believe me or not, it's still true." He emitted a frustrated sigh and straightened up, brushing himself off. Then, with a rather strained smile, he held out his hand. I eyed it with prudence.

"Go on," he said, giving the hand a small shake. "You can take it, you know. It's just a hand."

"Why?" I knew I'd already asked this, but it was essential I do so again; his answers were not making sense to me. Why would he save me? Why would he offer a helping hand? Why did he choose _me_ of all people to "need" to know?

"Because you look like you could use some help," he stated simply. Nothing more.

So, against all better judgment, I wrapped my hand around his. Because I knew he was right.

I desperately needed to be on my feet again.

-X-

**A/N:** So . . . been a long time. Heh. I'm terribly apologetic about that. Life's begin a jerk; I'm like, "Dude! Leave me alone so I can write!" and it's like, "Never! Mwuhahahahahahaha!"

So! Questions to ponder: Is Regulus lying or is Mandy being too hard on him? Does "vow" mean anything or is Mandy making things up? Should she slap people more often, since that's obviously a positive outlet for her?

Next chapter should bring a miraculous return of Sirius! Yay!

Now, you know why you should review? Because April 4th (over a month ago, but oh well) was my birthday! Yes, I am officially a year older! And what better way to celebrate celebrated with your lovely, appreciated feedback? That I appreciate! And love!

Thanks so much!

Squid


	14. Letting Go

**You're an Idiot, Sirius Black**

**Ch.12 Letting Go**

"Help him!" Mrs. Bones shrieked at me. "You've got to help him!"

"I – I know," I stuttered, sobs racking my chest. "I'm trying –"

"Help me, please!"

The little boy screeched as a new wave of curses seized him and the terrible Death Eater leered at me. I raised my shaking hand, grasping the wand with white knuckles. All I had to do was utter the curse and it would be over. That simple.

A raw, throaty chuckle tore from the Death Eater, sending chills down my spine. "Coward," he hissed. And I knew, in the deepest depths of my heart, that he was right.

I was a coward.

"Wake up, Mandy!" My eyes fluttered open to see Alice's beaming face, her cheeks rosy with excitement. "Come on, get up, sleepy head."

"What time is it?" I mumbled, running a hand groggily over my face and trying not to delve into thoughts of my dream.

"Eight o'clock! First Quidditch match of the season in two hours. Gryffindor versus Slytherin!"

"Oh, right. Wake me up when we win." I rolled over on my stomach, only for Alice to roll me back.

"Mandy, you _have_ to go! Remember that you missed try-outs?"

"That wasn't my fault!" I protested. "I was unconscious."

Alice stuck her bottom lip out, batting her eyelashes at me. I was momentarily taken aback; Alice hardly ever exploited her "feminine wiles" to acquire her desires.

"Aw, don't do that, Al, it's hardly fair." Her angelic eyes began to water. "Oh, fine! I'll come to the bleeding game and scream my bloody heart out for you and thus die from a sore throat and then _you _will be forced to wake up at some ungodly hour to attend my funeral!"

Well. I showed _her_.

Alice rolled her eyes as she attacked my trunk like a starved lion would a zebra.

"Show my personal property a little respect, would you?" I asked, but she simply threw a scarf in my face.

"It's eight o'clock, Mandy," Alice repeated. "You usually wake up loads earlier than that."

"Yeah, well . . . still no excuse," I muttered, crossing my arms and pouting like the mature seventeen-year-old I claimed to be. Alice chose not to dignify this with a response, tossing clothes into my lap.

"You should probably wear a cloak, weather's rainy and cold." She drew the hangings closed around my bed. "Get dressed!"

There really was no point arguing (Alice took Quidditch _very_ seriously), so I grudgingly obliged. Though I took my sweet time doing so. Yep, I'm a rebel.

When I finally emerged through the hangings it was to see Lily, Mary, and Alice gathered around the bathroom door, knocking on it. Frowning confusedly, I joined them.

"Listen, we really need to go, Marlene!" Alice was saying to the door. "I'm already running late and James wants at least an hour of warm-up drills before the game. We need to eat!"

"You go!" came Marlene's muffled voice. "I don't think I'm going to make it today; upset stomach."

I exchanged a bewildered glance with Mary. Marlene missing Quidditch was like . . . me missing pudding. Not right, I tell you. Not right.

"Take, Al," I whispered to Mary. "We'll deal with it."

She nodded and muttered something to Alice, who heaved a dramatic sigh, cast one final distressed look at the door, and left the dormitory with Mary in her wake.

"Should you see Madame Pomfrey?" Lily asked Marlene in concern.

"No, no, I'm fine. Just, you know, a tad woozy is all." She gave a nervous chuckle.

"Are you sure? Maybe I should come in –"

"No! Lils, really, I'm ok! Go down to breakfast, guys. Don't be bothered about me."

I was honestly worried by this point; Marlene was the coolest, most unruffled person I had ever met and now she sounded almost . . . _panicked_. Over a stomach bug? Something about that didn't sit quite right with me.

"I'll stay," I decided. "You should have someone looking after you, in case something's really wrong –"

"No, Mandy." Marlene's tone was unyielding, leaving no room for argument. "Don't worry about me. Eat. Go to the match. Have a ball. _Don't worry_."

I chewed on my lip, torn between the desire to obey Marlene's every order and anxiety for her well-being. One glimpse of Lily's face revealed she was battling a similar internal conflict.

"Alright . . ." Lily said at last, and I mentally patted her on the back. It must have been very difficult, accepting this was not her decision and therefore out of her control. Lily _lived_ for control. "If that's what you want . . ."

"It is! Trust me!"

Now we were on the subject of trust, too, Lily appeared to be convulsing.

"Oh – ok," she squeaked, backing away from the door. "I'll . . . I'll . . ."

"Trust you," I finished. Before Marlene could respond, Lily spun and fled the room. I quickly followed, stumbling down the staircase after her.

"Hey – Lily!" I called, racing to the portrait hole before she could exit. I grabbed her elbow and spun her around to see tears streaming in rivulets down her cheeks. "Oh, God, what's wrong?"

"That's none of your concern," she snapped, tearing her arm from my grasp. The words cut like a steel knife to my heart. "Now, go back to your little boyfriends and stay out of my business!"

Struck by her harsh demeanor, I stood glued to the spot as she whirled and strode through the portrait hole. Shock clouded my mind for a brief moment. Then anger settled in.

How _dare_ she talk to me like that when all I did was ask her what was wrong like the good friend I am? Where was this malicious side coming from, anyway? When did our relationship become such a mess?

I should have just let her go. Should have allowed her to cool off, collect her thoughts, overcome whatever obstacles she faced. That was the smart, rational solution. But since when could I be considered rational?

"You filthy hypocrite!" I yelled at her back as she strode down the corridor. "Since when have _you_ ever minded _your_ own business?"

She froze, body visibly quaking from anger. _Stop_, my brain told me. _Quit right now._ _You are only going to hurt more people than you already have. _Yet the words continued to spill unsolicited from my lips.

Kind of ironic, wasn't it? That when I actually worked up the guts to say what I felt, it was probably best not to?

"Oh, that's right!" I shouted. "You _never_ mind your own business! Because, for some reason, you feel such an overwhelming desire to control the world! Well, guess what, Lily? You _can't _control the world. There are always going to be things out of your control: time, death, Marlene getting a stomach bug, me being mates with James Potter. And until you realize that . . . you're never going to be satisfied."

Silence. Absolute . . . silence. It felt strangely eerie after the raging, furious voices blaring in my head.

I inhaled slowly, gazing imploringly at the motionless redhead across the hall, _willing_ her to understand. Her shoulders were slumped, arms contracted tightly to her stomach, posture hopeless.

All of a sudden, she squared her shoulders and dropped her arms to her sides again. The only indication of any discomfort was the restless drumming of her fingers against her thighs. And with no further sign of having heard me at all, she rounded the corner.

Merlin, she was infuriating.

But, boy, did I miss her.

-X-

I could hardly believe it was already November, but November it was. Time honestly was a strange thing; each day of October dragged on and on, though when the month at long last ended, it seemed to have disappeared in the blink of an eye.

I spent most of my free moments nowadays divided between the Marauders (who, even when I stressed they needed more "guy-time," insisted they could never get enough of me and proceeded to prove this in an off-key serenade); working furiously on my Cancer cure in the library (it was coming along smashingly, if I did say so myself); and . . . wait for it . . . homework. Yes, my life was abundant with excitement. You're jealous.

So, if you had not already gathered, the date was November fifth, the first Quidditch match of the season. Yippee.

After a quick breakfast, during which exhilaration hung tangibly in the air, I made my way down to the Quidditch Pitch with Remus and Peter in tow. It was refreshing to be around only those two; by far the humblest of their group, they were the calm after the storm – a way to wind down.

"Do you like Quidditch, Amanda?" Remus asked as we exited the castle. The foggy air was thick with moisture and heavy, gray clouds obscured the sky.

"Eh, it's alright, though I reckon it'd be more interesting if played on vacuum cleaners . . . ." Remus emitted a choked noise in the back of his throat, as if unsure whether to laugh or not. "How about you?"

"Oh, you know, it's fun to watch and all. I just feel people get a bit too hung up about it sometimes. In the end, it's only a game."

By "people," we both knew he meant James.

I was about to ask Peter his thoughts for the sake of conversation, when a water balloon exploded at my feet. Squealing, I nearly dove into Remus' arms, but skillfully covered the ungainly movement by patting him on the back.

Zooming over us, cackling maniacally, was Peeves the Poltergeist, an impish little man with a penchant for wreaking havoc on unsuspecting students. In my opinion, Dumbledore should have chucked the bloke ages ago; what was the point of keeping him around? He wasn't even a real ghost!

Oh, wait, I forgot – Dumbledore would refrain from kicking Peeves out because he was _Dumbledore _and did mad things like appoint James Potter to Head Boy.

"Cut it out, Peeves," Remus said tiredly. "We're not in the mood."

"Aw, Loony Loopy Lupin is _'not in the mood'_!" giggled Peeves. "Why is ickle Loopy so sad? Because of the clouds maybe?" And then, to the horror of my poor eardrums, he began to sing. "_Loo-ny is gloo-my 'cause he can't see the moo-ny_ – Aaaaaggh!" In a rare display of aggression, Remus swung his fist at the hovering poltergeist. Peeves darted out of the way in the nick of time, clutching his sides with laughter. Remus glared stonily.

"Hey." I laid a gentle hand on his elbow. "You ok?" He turned to me, eyes softening.

"Yeah, sorry – I, er, don't know what came over me."

"No worries," I grinned. "It happens to the best of us."

As we followed the rest of the path to the Pitch, Peeves continued to drift above us, singing his song. After a few minutes of our cool indifference, however, he grew bored and flew off to pick on some other students.

I chanced a glance at Remus' drawn face. I bore no idea why such a silly jingle affected him so much, but decided it might be too soon to ask.

We sidled into seats high in the air with a completely unobstructed view of the field. All around us, spectators clad in red and gold did the same.

"Do you reckon it will rain?" Peter called from his spot on the other side of Remus.

"It looks likely," Remus answered, lifting his face to the sky. "Hope the game starts soon . . ."

As if on cue, a booming voice rang through the brisk air. "Hello, hello, welcome to the first Quidditch match of the season, Gryffindor vs. Slytherin. Since the regular, Jordan, unfortunately sprained his ankle five minutes ago, and I was obviously the next best candidate, I will be your commentator for the day –"

"Rosier, you were the person standing nearest, don't flatter yourself," Professor McGonagall said and giggles tittered through the stands. I, frankly, was appalled. _Rosier_? Was that kid _everywhere_?

Rosier huffed and I allowed myself a smirk at his annoyance. "Right, anyway, here comes the Gryffindor team – James Potter, Sirius Black, Fabian Prewett, Gideon Prewett, Keenan Peakes, Tiberius McLaggen, and Alice Elliot." Even through the uproarious cheers, I could hear the note of disgust in his tone. Why wouldn't he be disgusted? Not only did the team consist of Gryffindors (obviously), but of _impure _Gryffindors. Blood-traitors, Muggle lovers. Everything a person like him despised. "Bit of a weak team this year, if you ask me."

Boos erupted from the Gryffindor supporters, but I ignored him, absent-mindedly rubbing my right triceps. If I closed my eyes, I could still picture with startling clarity the painful bruises Mulciber's vice-like grip had left there.

"And here's the Slytherin team! Walden Wilkes, Aidan Mulciber," I involuntarily shuddered, "Cory Higgs, Nathan Mayfield, Loriat Montague, Kevin Urquhart aaaaand . . . Regulus Black! Yes, obviously a _much_ stronger team than Gryffindor –"

"Rosier! You must not show bias!" McGonagall snapped.

"Yeah, yeah, Professor, whatever you say . . ."

We watched as James and Walden Wilkes were forced to shake hands. Wilkes seemed to be trying to break James' fingers. Completely barbaric sport, Quidditch.

Once finished with that little display of testosterone, the teams mounted their brooms and kicked off to the sky. My eyes absently followed Regulus as he began to circle the pitch.

Since he saved me from the demented Slytherins, we had grown to be, dare I say, _friends_. He was nearly always with me in the library, telling ludicrous, absolutely meaningless tales about his gruesome love life that never failed to leave me in stitches. Along with his soft smile, soothing demeanor, and readily cocked eyebrow, the boy was just too charming to dislike.

Now, don't misunderstand me; I was still a bit frightened of him. Sometimes, when he thought I wasn't looking, I could swear remnants of the old loathing shone in his guarded eyes.

Yet, for the sake of high quality amusement, I was willing to put that minor detail aside.

"And it's James Potter with the quaffle! He looks a bit shabby, might need to lay off the bacon once and a while – oh, we shouldn't comment on other's weights, Professor? My bad. Anyway, he passes to McLaggen, who seems to have a breakaway; but not for long, here comes a well-aimed bludger hit by my very best mate – AIDAN, YOU IDIOT, HOW DID YOU MISS THAT? THE BLOKE'S GOT A HEAD THE SIZE OF AUSTRALIA! Oh, we're not allowed to insult physical appearances at_ all_, Professor? Don't look at me like that; you could have been more specific!"

"Worst. Commentator. _Ever_," Remus breathed in my ear and I snickered. Wasn't that the truth; he instilled in me the strange desire to chop my ears off. But, then again, this may have only been because I knew from firsthand experience what a complete and utter jerk he was.

"Prewett passes back to Potter and – ugh, Gryffindor scores. I don't know _how_ Mayfield let that in; my _grandmother_ could have saved it, and she's _dead_. So, it's Loriat Montague with the quaffle, flying steadily to the Gryffindor goal posts – he dodges a bludger sent by Sirius Black – evades McLaggen, approaches Prewett – the, er, other Prewett, not that it makes any difference – prepares to shoot and – WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU, MONTAGUE? YOU COULDN'T EVEN GET THE DAMN QUAFFLE PAST A PATHETIC BLOOD-TR –"

"FINISH THAT SENTENCE, ROSIER, AND YOU WILL BE STUCK IN DETENTION FOR THE REST OF YOUR SVENTH YEAR!"

"Honestly, Professor McGonagall, is there anything I'm _allowed _to say?"

The game carried on in a similar manner for fifteen minutes or so, during which my sole entertainment was McGonagall berating Rosier. Was it wrong that his telling-offs filled me with a sort of sick joy?

"Time-out has been called by Gryffindor as they try to get their act together – wusses. Really, I didn't mean it, Professor!"

"Get their act together?'" Peter cried in befuddlement. "They're leading by thirty!"

I shrugged as I inattentively watched the Slytherin team zoom to the ground. All the team, except Muciber, who continued to dawdle idly in the sky . . . by a hovering bludger . . .

"What's he doing?" I hissed, but my whisper was lost to the wind as kids stretched their legs and chatted, seizing the opportunity the timeout presented.

I knew what was going to happen a moment before it did. Mulciber's arm drew back and whipped forward, sending the bludger flying with a crack. I saw the destination: the glossy back of Sirius' head as he dismounted his broom.

"SIRIUS, LOOK OUT!"

He couldn't have possibly heard me – we were too far away and the spectators were too noisy. So when he dove to the side, narrowly avoiding a crushed skull, I was rather surprised.

Sirius spun around as howls of outrage sounded. I was vaguely aware of Remus shouting, "Foul! Oh, come on, he can't just _do_ that!" and a girl behind me crying "Tiff, wake up! Sirius is alive! God, I can't believe she actually _fainted _. . ." Like magnets, my eyes locked with Sirius' – and, for a moment, nothing in the entire world mattered. He was _ok_.

Even from the distance, I could see his mouth turn upward in a half-grin. But then he was surrounded by teammates and, just like that, the moment was over. I eased back into my seat, emitting a breath I didn't know I was holding.

I turned to meet Remus' arched eyebrows and annoyingly knowing smirk.

"What?" I asked, wary of his expression.

"Oh, nothing." Remus shook his head. "You just seemed . . . worried, is all."

"Well . . . yeah," I said, thinking the reason was rather obvious. "He was about to get his skull smashed in, wasn't he?"

"Uh-huh."

"_What_?" I repeated, slightly desperate.

He shrugged nonchalantly. "I don't know. I just wonder . . . were you really only worried because someone was about to get hurt . . . or because _Sirius_ was about to get hurt?"

I blinked. "Er . . . sorry?"

And, once again, the prize for most intelligent retort is awarded to yours truly!

Remus smiled and turned to applaud approvingly as the referee called a foul against Slytherin.

Finally, his meaning registered. "Wait, no – I would have been just as worried if anyone else was in his position. I'm studying to be a Healer; I don't like seeing others hurting."

His face remained emotionless, even as Keenan Peakes scored a penalty shot and Rosier yelled how Mulciber's arm _slipped_, the bludger _happened _to soar in Sirius' direction, and a foul was completely unjust.

"When are you going to stop kidding yourself?" Remus suddenly burst. "It's obvious you still care for him."

Nearly unreasonable antipathy bubbly in the pit of my stomach. "_Sirius_?" I sputtered. "I – I don't – not at all – he's not my friend, I don't care –" I breathed in deeply, gathering my bearings. "Listen. Sirius and I are a thing of the past. We were good mates before Hogwarts, when neither of us had anyone else, but then stuff came in between us – words, circumstances – and, well, we barely know each other now. He's not my friend anymore. And I don't want him to be. I've grown, I'm stronger, even if just a bit – I don't need him like I did then."

My breath caught, voice dying in my throat. No one – _especially_ me – revisited my friendship with Sirius. It was an unspoken rule.

Remus' eyes captured mine. Soft, wise, and gentle, they truly were the windows to his soul. "You know, I've spent practically my entire life searching for answers. And, to be quite honest, I'm about as clueless now as I was coming into the world. But if there's one thing I've learned, it's that forgiveness takes a heck of a lot more strength than holding a grudge."

I froze, his words echoing through my head. They made no sense. I _knew_ weakness. I knew it when I took Sirius back with open arms after he left with no good-bye when we were six. After he humiliated me in front of the entire school. After he nearly killed me with a bumblebee. _That_ was weakness. And refusing to waltz back to him was probably the strongest thing I'd done . . . ever.

"IT LOOKS LIKE ELLIOT HAS SPOTTED THE SNITCH! COME ON BLACK, YOU BIG BAFOON, AFTER HER!"

I whipped around just as Alice went speeding straight into the gloomy clouds, Regulus steadily gaining on her tail. The pitch was the quietest it had been since before the match – everyone holding their breaths, waiting to see who would win the game, who would inevitably become their house's new hero. Fat blotches of rain began to splatter my face.

"Come on, Reg . . ." Rosier was mumbling. "You can't lose to a – a _girl _. . . Professor McGonagall, that wasn't sexist, it was true!"

Two minutes, feeling remarkably like two days, passed and I was painfully reminded of the saying, _"A watched cauldron never boils . . ."_

Remus' long fingers enclosed around my wrist; the clouds parted and Alice came zooming down, wriggling golden snitch clutched triumphantly in her fist.

"Oh, you've got to be joking!" Rosier whined as the most deafening roar yet sounded.

Alice's feet had barely touched the ground when her teammates swallowed her in an enormous bear hug. They then broke away and embraced each other individually (in very manly ways, mind you), not seeming to care about the pouring rain pelting their upturned faces, or thunder bellowing overhead.

Grinning, Sirius pointed at me.

And, for a brief instant, I could care less, too.

-X-

The blaring music seemed to pulse through my very veins as I sat crammed on the sofa, sipping my gillywater and fiddling with the end of my ponytail. On one side of me, a couple snogged furiously, and on the other a boy slumped unconscious. This, along with the humid, stuffy air, was enough of an incentive to throw myself off the Astronomy Tower, if only to feel the rush of chilly wind.

Where did Remus and Peter disappear to? Why on _Earth _did they think it would be acceptable to leave me to fend for myself in such unfamiliar territory? Had they assumed the roles of "quiet" Marauders for so long, they automatically presumed I was as comfortable at a party as James or Sirius? That I could be left alone and trusted to walk up to strange, intimidating people I knew only by sight, introduce myself, and dance the night away? Well, they presumed wrong!

With a start, the boy on my right awoke. He took one look at me through dazed eyes, grinned sleazily, and drawled, "Why, hello there . . ." He quickly broke off, however, as his face tinged green.

I hastily edged away from him, only to hear the noises the young lovers were producing and scooted right on back.

This. Was. _Torture_.

Abruptly, large hands were covering my eyes, a deep voice whispering, "Guess who?"

I stiffened. "Sirius, you have about three and a half seconds to get your hands off me."

He barked a laugh, but obliged, pushing the sick boy from his seat. As soon as he hit the floor, he was once again out cold.

"So?" Sirius asked, assuming his seat. "Enjoying the festivities?"

"Not particularly," I admitted. "It's so . . . loud and sweaty . . . and why would you throw such a big party anyway? It's only the first game – you have an entire season left to go."

He stared blankly, as if not quite following my logic.

I sighed. "Sirius, have you been drinking?"

"Not much!" he defended. "Less than most people, I only had a glass or two . . . or twelve, but I'm really only _slightly_ tipsy."

I chewed on my lip, fighting a wave of resentment. Holding up constant anger at Sirius was difficult enough when he saved my life or cracked stupid jokes. Now that he was under the influence of alcohol, too, it hardly seemed fair.

"Don't be angry, Mandy. Look, it could be worse. I could be as off my face as this bloke here." He nudged the boy on the floor with his shoe. When the kid mumbled something about his "mummy," Sirius' eyes glowed like a child's on Christmas morning. "Ha! See, Mandy? It could be _soooo_ much worse."

The spinning disco ball (how James ever managed to acquire I disco ball, let alone install it, was beyond me) cast his face into a bluish light, then pink, then red, and, for a moment, I was struck by his sheer beauty. The sloping cheekbones, straight nose, haughty features of an aristocrat. So similar to that of his family's. How, I wondered, could people be so alike, and yet so startlingly different at the same time?

"_Forgiveness takes a heck of a lot more strength than holding a grudge." _

Sirius' lips quirked, eyes flicking to mine. My cheeks flushed in embarrassment that he caught me staring.

"Oh, please, don't allow me to disturb you. I know I'm nice to look at and I would never want to that away from you –"

"You know, I didn't think it was possible," I remarked in mock awe. "You're even cockier when drunk."

Resting his hands behind his head, he waggled his eyebrows. "There are a lot of things you never knew about me."

"Oh shut up, you idiot," I muttered, punching him in the arm.

"Tell me, how ever do you come up with such clever insults?"

"Sirius, I swear to you, if you weren't intoxicated you'd be dead about now."

"Are you this violent with your girlfriends?"

I rolled my eyes exasperatedly. "You bring it out in me."

Sirius grinned, but fell silent, nodding his head to the beat of the drums. I scanned the partiers for my friends, to no avail.

"Do you want to dance?" Sirius asked suddenly. I blinked, certain I heard wrong. But he was looking at me expectantly, hand extended. He _actually_ asked me to dance? With _him_? I should let him down nicely . . .

"Er . . . no."

Well, a direct approach worked, too.

Sirius sighed, frustrated, as if I was some temperamental child he had been forced to babysit. "And why not?"

"Because . . . because maybe I don't like to dance."

He arched an eyebrow. "Don't like to or_ can't_?"

I shrugged unconcernedly. "What's the difference?"

Sirius just laughed and pulled me to my feet.

"Hey –" I began to protest, but my voice was lost as he pushed me into the throng of dancers. "Sirius, I told you I don't want –"

"Come on!" he shouted. "Don't be scared; dancing is fun!"

"I'm not scared!" I called back, but he ignored me (big surprise), warm hand wrapping around mine.

"Spin in," he ordered.

I raised my eyebrows challengingly. "No."

"For Merlin's sake, Mandy, why do you have to make everything so difficult?" Sirius groaned. "For one moment, one tiny moment, why can't you just _let go_?"

His eyes bored into mine. My neck hair's prickled and I got the strange impression that he was referring to more than just dancing.

"I _can_ let go. I just . . . would rather not," I admitted softly. "Pain's not worth the risk."

"I'm not going to hurt you," he whispered. "You're safe with me. I promise."

"Sirius . . ."

"Spin in."

Cautiously, I obeyed, twisting the length of his arm until he held me against his chest. I was all too aware of the steady pounding of his heart, hot breath lapping at my neck.

"See?" he breathed. "You're ok."

He spun me slowly out, and then twirled me under his arm, a bit faster this time. I scrunched my eyes shut against the blurring world.

"You're ok," he repeated, once my surroundings stopped spinning. I peaked at him through my lashes and breathed a sigh of relief. Maybe he was right; maybe I would be ok.

With a slight smile, he spun me in again, the movement much more fluid than before. I was even beginning to enjoy myself a little, when the ground rapidly fell away as the lunatic _dipped_ me.

My breath hitched in my throat, staring up at Sirius' smiling face, into his magnetic eyes.

"I'm ok," I whispered.

Sirius nodded and straightened, pulling me with him. "I knew you would be."

The song switched from upbeat to melodic and romantic and the arm still snaked around my waist seemed unexpectedly prominent. Coughing awkwardly, I took a step away from him.

"Thanks for, erm, helping me to dance," I mumbled, inspecting a dirt stain on my shoe.

"Thanks for letting me help you."

My eyes darted back to his and, not for the first time, I marveled at their intensity and obscurity.

"Will you go to Hogsmeade with me?" he blurted.

Way to ruin a moment, Sirius.

"Will I – what?" I stuttered.

If I hadn't known better, I would have sworn his cheeks were shaded pink. "You know – as friends. Or acquaintances. Or whatever it is we are. Just go . . . with me."

I looked around the celebrators, trying to remind myself of the reality of the situation and why that was a very bad idea. Because he was Sirius Black and I was Amanda Johnston. And those two people were_ not_ supposed to go to Hogsmeade together, as "acquaintances" or otherwise. It just wasn't _done_.

But there was something in the air – maybe the light-hearted feeling, or soulful music, or hypnotic whirl of the disco ball – that seemed to make our names not matter too much. I nodded my head yes.

Reality could wait.

-X-

A/N: HELLLOOOO again! This chapter was originally supposed to be up much sooner – but I broke my computer. And then I broke my laptop. And then, naturally, I was banned from the last computer. I don't understand how a device that brings me such joy could hate me so much.

And, because I simply cannot contain my joy, ECLIPSE! SOOO much better than the first two (that's just my opinion, feel free to give yours)!

Thanks for reading!

Squid


	15. Rainbows

**You're an Idiot, Sirius Black**

**WARNING: **There are a few references to the prologues in this chapter, so you might want to do a brief skim of them in case you're confused as to what is being said, but if you'd rather not, each reference is short and easily dismissed. Also, feel free to just ask me what the heck they're talking about in a review, and I'll get back to you. Enjoy!

**Ch. 13 Rainbows **

Black, rolling clouds. Low sky. Muted sunlight. If that was not foreshadowing of how this day would turn out, I didn't know what was.

Why did I agree to this again? Because I was a tad punch-drunk on a happy atmosphere and the prospect seemed a little less scary than normal? Well, whatever my reasoning, it was stupid – Sirius was probably too inebriated to comprehend the words spilling from his mouth, anyway!

"I don't know why you're so shocked that you're tardy everywhere you go; if all you do is stare mindlessly out windows . . ."

I raised my head as Regulus Black sidled into the alcove I currently occupied, shoulder pressed against mine, minty scent flooding the cramped space.

"Where did you come from?" I muttered, much too preoccupied to compose a wittier retort.

"Around . . ." he said mock-mysteriously, waggling his eyebrows.

I sighed, pressing my forehead against the cold, glass window. A peck of owls swooped by, and I watched the different colors – gold, white, tawny – dance against the raging wind.

"Plus, I wanted to wish you luck for your date."

"Regulus!" I admonished, jolted from my reverie. "Don't call it . . . _that_."

Regulus' eyes widened innocently. "Call it what?"

"You know."

"Not really."

"Yes, _you do_."

"No, _I don't_."

"Reg!"

"What? What don't you want me to call your date?"

"Ugh!" I groaned as he cracked an amused smile. "If you're going to continue acting like a prat, I'm leaving."

"Aw, come on!" he laughed, catching my arm. "You can't leave now; you'd only be ten minutes late. What tragedy!"

"Don't you have your own date to annoy?" I asked, grudgingly leaning back against the ledge. "Someone who willingly agreed to spend time with you . . ."

He grimaced, a far off look in his eye as if recalling a particularly gruesome memory. "I did – this morning. But then she saw me talking rather," he cleared his throat, "_warmly_ with another girl and, well . . . let's just say, that's the last time _I_ ever date a beater."

Grinning, I arched my brow. "Oh? Is this a tale worth hearing?"

"I don't know." He leaned casually against the wall, crossing his arms over his chest. "You'll have to tell me yourself."

I chewed on my lip; there wasn't enough time for one of his meandering, exaggerative stories, no matter how hilarious it might be. I had to meet up with Sirius for our – what was this, again? An outing? Excursion? Jaunt? Day trip –?

"So, it all really started when Emmeline Vance's rather shiny hair caught my eye . . ."

Oh, but the urge to hear of Regulus possibly being beaten up by a girl was so _strong_! No . . . Must . . . meet . . . Sirius . . .

"Now, Linz from Hufflepuff is quite adorable you see – but she has arms bigger than most blokes I know, and I'm already a tad scrawny to begin with."

Ah, who I kidding! What were a few extra minutes in the grand scheme of things? I could always quit procrastinating . . . you know . . . tomorrow.

-X-

Bounding into the Entrance Hall, I scanned the vast room for Sirius' trademark glossy hairdo, ears perked in anticipation of his barking laugh. Finding no one the least bit familiar, I continued to the door.

"Not so fast, missy," a croaky voice said, and Mr. Filch, the school caretaker, moved to block my way. His cat, Mrs. Norris, slithered between my legs, fluffy tail wrapping around my ankles. Creepy. "First, you must be checked for Dark Objects!"

He began to prod me in rather uncomfortable places with a long rod. I couldn't help feeling this was somewhat brainless, especially as I noticed Regulus and a few of his scarier friends slipping through the doors unnoticed. I was a Muggle-born Gryffindor with one detention on my record – was it honestly _likely_ I would smuggle out Dark Objects to Hogsmeade? Where would I even acquire the Dark Objects?

"You're clean." He retracted the rod and moved aside; I could barely restrain an eye roll.

"Thank you, Captain Obvious," I mumbled as I stepped passed him into the chilly wind.

"What was that?"

"Nothing!"

Pulling my cloak tighter around my shoulders, my eyes drifted across the muddy expanse as students bustled down a cobblestone path, exhilaration at leaving these commonplace grounds apparent in their every skip.

"Mandy!"

Heaving a sigh of relief, I made my way to where Alice and Mary were waving me over.

"Hi, there," I grinned. "Feels like ages since we last talked. Where are Lily and Marlene?"

"Marlene's not going out – says she's sick again." I frowned, but Alice promptly waved my concern away. "Oh, don't worry about it; it's probably just an excuse to stay at the castle so she can snog a boy in a broom cupboard with no strings attached. As for Lily . . . she's on a _date_."

"Oh?" I asked nonchalantly. "With whom?"

"Casey Davies," Mary giggled.

"You know, from Ravenclaw?" Alice continued. "Remember last month, when she came back crying and you switched patrol schedules so she wouldn't have to face James? Well, Casey's apparently quite nice and he asked her out the other day – it's not like she would say no, she's always been a bit keen on him . . ."

A not at all unfamiliar emotion tugged at my heart, but it still took me a moment to identify: isolation. Loneliness. Hurt at being left out from the loop. How long did they know? Had Lily told them personally? Why hadn't anyone thought to inform _me_? Of course, we did not necessarily converse as much as we used to, but I still considered them my best friends in the world – and a girlfriend's relationship status was a rather big deal amongst other girlfriends, even girlfriends as indifferent towards that sort of thing as me.

I opened my mouth to respond, unsure of what to say, when a smooth voice interrupted.

"Hullo, ladies."

I wasted no time in rounding on Sirius, snapping, "Where've you been?"

"You're asking me?" he cried incredulously. "You're fifteen minutes late!"

"Yeah, well, you weren't even out here –"

"I was fifteen minutes ago!"

Alice cleared her throat and began to pull Mary away toward the path leading to Hogsmeade. "Well, we'll just leave you two to it, then. Bye, Mandy, Sirius, catch up with you later!"

I watched them walk away, laughing happily as they bounced down the lane, hardly bothering to throw a second glance over their shoulders. The smaller they grew, the more hurt faded from my bloodstream, replaced with resignation and a small amount of embarrassment. I blew out a breath.

I turned back to Sirius, who eyed me warily. "So?" he asked. "You through with your whole 'angry at the world' moment?"

Flushing, I downcast my eyes. "Er . . . mostly, yes. Sorry about that, by the way. I'm just a little out of it today –"

"I'm willing to let it all go," he interrupted, "and try and have fun at Hogsmeade, for just this day. That is, if you are, too?"

Chewing on my lips, I glanced up at the sky; if I stretched far enough, my fingertips might have been able to graze it. Slowly, I nodded. To be honest, I wanted nothing more than to "let it all go," as he so often told me I should. But how would one go about doing so? That, I had no clue.

Lowering my gaze, I saw Sirius beam as he extended his arm. "Shall we, then?"

I stared at him blankly – but then my lips twitched and, before I could stop it, a chuckle escaped, as I considered that maybe letting go was not nearly as difficult as I built it to be. "You amaze me," I breathed, mainly to myself, as I shook my head and patted his elbow to let him know there was _no way_ I was taking it. Together (boy, did that phrase seem strange) we set off down the pathway.

We strolled at a leisurely pace in silence, with the occasional offhand comment. This was the first instant I had been alone with him in broad daylight in some time; so, naturally, I should have felt awkward, out of place. Was it wrong to be this – this _comfortable_? Like the last three years were the lie and the moment was the truth? The way everything was supposed to be? Him and me, us, together, walking side by side, living in today, not a concrete care in the world?

But of course, we reached our destination (we always did), and the moment came to an end (it always had to).

"What's he doing with _her_?" I heard distinctly from a nearby shop, as we reached the bustling town.

"I dunno, you reckon it's a date?"

"But he's Sirius Black! And she's . . . wait, isn't she the girl that flashed the Great Hall back in First Year?"

I threw the pair of gossiping bints a dark look, and they immediately hushed their voices. Still, the words resonated in my mind. Was that really what my reputation had been reduced to? Honestly, how was it right that there were the Lily Evans' of the world, known for their grace, beauty, smarts, and kindness, and then the _Amanda Johnston's_, slightly familiar to the public because they were dumped by a popular boy (even when they _weren't_) and flashed their school at a mere eleven years (even when that _wasn't their fault_)?

My Aunt Jeannine used to tell me whenever I complained to her, _"Life's not fair, kiddo, suck it up." _Yet, at such a tender age, I remained hopeful.

Looking back, I really should have listened.

"Everyone is whispering," I breathed, catching another pair of girls eyeing me with poorly disguised envy. "Oh, God, I knew this wasn't a good idea –"

"You know, people aren't talking about you as much as you'd reckon," Sirius cut across my ramble. "Some love gossip, true, but most have their own lives to worry them. And even if everyone _was _talking . . . well, this girl once told me that it's not that healthy to care too much about what other people say, anyway."

I bit back a smirk. "Oh? She sounds nice." As an afterthought I added, "Pretty, too."

"Yeah, I guess she could be . . . if you, like, tilted your head to the left and scrunched up your eyes and tried to get past the hippogriff ears – Ow, that hurt!"

"What can I say?" I asked casually, flexing my fingers as Sirius massaged the arm I just punched. "I underestimate my own strength."

He gave a loud, false cough that suspiciously resembled, "_Madwoman_!"

Ignoring this, I continued, "Plus, hippogriffs don't even have ears. Next time you start throwing around potentially hurtful insults, make sure to check you facts."

He grinned sheepishly. "It was the first thing to pop into my head."

"Right behind 'swan-like grace,' you mean." As if to accentuate the point, my foot caught a ridge in the road and I tumbled to the ground. Sirius promptly hoisted me to my feet, casting over-the-top apologetic glances to the people forced to shuffle around the new obstacle I created.

"Clearly," he chuckled.

"Where were you planning on taking me today?" I asked, in what I thought was a rather subtle attempt to change the subject and, thus, mask my humiliation. Judging by Sirius' ever-growing smirk, however, I may have been a bit off-mark with "subtle."

"A seminar on how to walk properly. I heard they work _wonders_."

"Once again, Sirius, you are so funny I forgot to laugh."

"Yeah, I tend to have that effect on people."

"You don't have a plan, do you?"

He scowled. "In my defense, I didn't reckon you'd show up."

My initial reaction was to take offense – but then I remembered how I had been weighing the option of escape, too, for the past week.

"What do you usually do in Hogsmeade, then?" I asked.

He glanced at something over my head, but just as I began to turn, his eyes were focused on me again, glinting mischievously. "I know just what to do," he declared, pulling me along by the wrist. I chanced a look over my shoulder and saw nothing but the barren hills beyond the village's borders, atop them the terror-inducing Shrieking Shack. With that sight, though, other images attacked my mind – polished masks in the moonlight, blinding spells flashing across a black sky, writhing victims begging for release – and I immediately turned away.

Sirius dragged me into a quaint clothing shop called Gladrags' Wizard Wear. A wave of heat crashed over us and I shrugged off my cloak.

"What are we doing here?" I asked, eyeing the rows of colorful fabrics and salespeople, with their too bright smiles and aura of forced friendliness. "I never knew you had such a love of clothes."

"Au contraire, fashion is what I _live_ for. I have an eye, you see. I can predict the coming and goings of trends. This is what will be in style next season." He plucked a random article from its hanger and held it up to himself, grimacing when he noticed how pink and frilly and utterly effeminate it was. "You know, for girls." He thrust it to me.

"Oh . . . erm . . ." I took the dress delicately. "I suppose if I want to stay one step ahead of the crowds . . ." Sirius' eyes were wide and earnest. Innocent.

Ha, right.

"Try it on, won't you?" he suggested. I glared, but he continued with the puppy dog demeanor and I knew there was simply no use. Huffing and praying, as Sirius said, people were too wrapped up in their own lives to notice me, I tossed the frock over my head. Even with multiple layers underneath, it hung loose on my skinny frame.

"Yup, it's a keeper!" My eyes remained downcast. His devilish expression might just have pushed me over the edge.

"Oh, dearie, you should definitely buy that!" a passing saleswoman trilled. Golden balls of light began to spin across the shimmery cloth. "It looks so . . . I mean, it really brings out your . . ." She twisted her mouth, probably scouring her heart for some semblance of praise. Bless her poor soul. "The shape truthfully flatters . . . oh, sod it." She stormed away, muttering under her breath about this "stupid, dead-end job."

Sirius' and my eyes had barely locked before we were both doubled over in laughter. With every escaped giggle, whatever ice was left between us melted away.

For an entire hour, we paraded around Gladrags', trying to predict the next fad in Wizard's Wear: socks that would always smell like sweaty feet; hideous robes designed to supposedly enhance the wearer's self-esteem; bonnets that blocked out all sound, except for teachers (three guesses as to who designed_ that_). I thought I might have died and gone to heaven when we reached a corner of the shop stacked with sweatshirts. Needless to say, I was practically forced to buy one. The comfiness, the bagginess – how much better did it get?

"What about this one?" asked Sirius, gesturing to a shred of magenta fabric that seemed much less clothes than a dish cloth.

"Sirius, I don't think that would fit a baby doll, let alone me."

"Huh," he shrugged. "I like it."

_I bet you do,_ I thought darkly, examining one with a dancing leprechaun.

"Oooh, Mandy! I've found the perfect one for you!" He sounded like such a little kid – or, perhaps more appropriate, like James – that I needed to see what the fuss was, excitement rising in spite of myself.

The sweatshirt was a putrid orange and adorned with a big sticker flashing, _75% OFF_. Two cannons were crossed on the breast, a tiny man on a broom zoomed across the material, and CHUDLEY CANNONS: WE SHALL CONQUER was printed in bold. No one in their right mind would pay money for something so devastating.

Naturally, I loved it.

"You're right, Siri. Absolutely right. It's perfect." I raised my head to see him gazing at me oddly, eyes raking my face. "What is it?"

"You just said – you know what, never mind. Of course I'm right." A smile bloomed and he nudged me to the cashier.

It wasn't until I paid and we were once again strolling the streets that I realized exactly what I said. And then, as is the case so often in my life, it was too late to take the words back.

-X-

"You love the smell of chocolate-chip biscuits baking, especially your mum's. Pudding's your favorite meal and you'd never told anyone except me, but you really, really like to eat," Sirius stated matter-of-factly.

"How do you remember that?" I asked in awe. "I don't even remember saying that."

He cast me a sidelong glance. "Well, after my selective memory nearly killed you, I decided to be more careful with what I forgot."

We were sitting on a bench, watching people walk by and licking fudgesickles from Honeydukes. A light rain drizzled upon the village; I could practically hear my hair frizzing.

"What else do you remember, then?" I asked. "My favorite color, broken bones, pulse rate?"

I didn't mean the question to be serious – but he decided to answer anyway. "Yellow because it's your dad's favorite color, and it's his because of sunshine; you broke your wrist once; and I don't think you've ever told me."

I blinked. Clearing my throat, I said, "Frankly, I'm offended you never bothered to find my pulse rate."

He grinned. "Must've slipped my mind."

I sucked on the fudgesickle, popping my mouth around it, and enjoying the chills its icy flavor sent down my back. Ever since I was little, I found a silly thrill in ice cream on rainy days.

"How is your dad, anyway?" Sirius asked and my stomach clenched.

"He's ok." My voice came in a whisper. "Holding on, which is all I can ask, I suppose."

Merlin, why did he have to bring up Dad, of all people? Now my mind was occupied with such troubling thoughts from a long time ago: lounging on a couch, tears rolling down my face, sniffling against Sirius' chest; his hand stroking my undone hair, so unruly even then; whispered words in the darkness as his mates crept upstairs.

"_Right now, you're the bravest person I know." _

Sirius must have seen something on my face – perhaps remnants of the hopelessness that had consumed me that night – because his hand engulfed mine. I gazed at it in shock and maybe a little awe – and, slowly, my fingers curled around his.

The rain seemed to be picking up; droplets perched on my lashes and nose and the pavement glowed. Thunder shook the sky.

"Do you want a butterbeer?" Sirius asked at the same time as I suggested, "Maybe we should head inside." We both chuckled and stood, wordlessly untangling our hands.

The Three Broomsticks offered an energizing blast of warmth. We made our way through the numerous people seeking sanctuary from the downpour, and took seats at the bar. Madame Rosemerta, the same barmaid who helped Sirius and me when we snuck out in September, glanced up from the glass she was cleaning.

"Hello again, Mr. Black," she grinned, setting the glass and rag down. "What might I get for you and your lovely friend today?"

"Butterbeer's alright, Mandy?" he asked.

Rosmerta's eyes widened and she glanced to me; gasping, she lunged across the counter and pulled me into a tight hug.

"It's you! Oh, my Merlin! I was so frightened that night – and with the deaths in the Prophet the next day, I was so certain you would be – Sirius assured me you were completely safe, but still – I was so stupid, I should've made sure you reached school!" Her chest heaved, and a pang shot through me as I realized she was crying.

"It's ok, I'm ok, really." I gently eradicated myself from her grip. "See? Not a scratch on me." I subtly turned my palms to me; tiny white scars stared up at me from where glass pierced through the skin.

She nodded, dabbing at her eyes, and began to shuffle around distractedly, fetching our drinks. I tapped my fingers on the countertop and shared a small smile with Sirius.

"Here you are, dears." Rosemerta dropped a couple of glasses sloshing with golden liquid before us. Sirius insisted on paying for my drink (stupid, chivalrous Gryffindor).

"Firewhiskey, Merta?" said a deep voice from beside me.

Rosmerta smiled sympathetically as I began to chug my butterbeer.

"Rough day, Frank?" she asked. She pulled out an opaque bottle and handed it to him. I glanced absently at the man, did a double take.

"Frank Longbottom?" I asked.

His brown eyes snapped to mine, widened.

"Mandy Johnston? Hi! I haven't seen you in ages!" His head whipped to the side. "Is Alice here with you?"

"No, she came to Hogsmeade, but not with me. I could find her if you'd like." Who knew how I was going to do that.

"Nah, I'll be able to find her." He waved the suggestion away before he grinned. "It's good to see you again."

Smiling, I nodded. "Likewise."

Now, Frank Longbottom and I were never particularly close: he was a year above me and even when Alice finally got up the nerve to tackle him in the Great Hall and force him to go on a date with her (I'm honestly not kidding), we rarely socialized. He remained with his close mates and I with mine. But Frank was . . . well, he was, quite frankly (pun not intended . . . mostly), one of the best people you'd ever meet. And you knew it, too – from the moment his wide, slightly goofy grin lit his eyes, you just _knew_ he was good.

I wasn't acquainted with too many of those types of people, so the feeling was rather refreshing.

"What are you doing here, then?" I continued. "If not for Alice?"

Frank licked his lips, glanced around the room. Finally, he leaned closer. "Can you keep a secret?" He shot a glance at Sirius. "I _mean_ a secret. A secret you can't tell anyone. Not even, say, your family?"

"Of course," I breathed, though I suspected his words were no longer directed at me.

"You too, Black?" asked Frank and the hardness of his words surprised me. Frank always acted so soft toward Alice and us girls. "You can keep a secret from meddlesome family? Family that might stop at _nothing _to know?"

The sudden urge to defend Sirius seized me. What right did Frank Longbottom have to suggest Sirius might give secrets away to his horrid kin? "Frank . . ." I warned.

"I don't have any family to begin with," interrupted Sirius, tone unyielding as Frank's. "Let alone, one to tell secrets to."

Frank nodded gravely. "I figured as much." He leaned even nearer and motioned for us to do the same.

"D'you remember that attack on Hogsmeade in September?" he whispered so quietly I had to strain my ears to catch it. I consciously fought to not turn to Sirius. "And you know that Aurors have been stationed in the village? Well, that's what I'm doing." His eyes gleamed. "My first mission, actually. Not very difficult; no one expects the Death Eaters to attack so soon afterward. But anyway, not many people actually know who the Aurors are. Just that they're here. It's a safety precaution. My position is the Three Broomsticks. I'm guarding it with Hamilton over there." He nodded toward the door and I noticed a pudgy man downing a drink. He looked like just another drunkard. But then, as he clumsily swiped at his mouth, his beady eyes scanned the pub, hovering on select individuals: a cluster of dark-cloaked boys here, a single woman there. His eyes came to a stop on Frank and he mimed dragging a zipper across his lips.

Grinning sheepishly, Frank leaned back on his stool. "I'm fairly decent at what I do. Not to brag or anything, but I've actually been called the best of my generation. Though sometimes I talk too much." He saluted the man before gulping his firewhiskey.

Sirius and I continued to sip our butterbeers in relative quiet, thinking over this new development. Sirius was just setting down his empty mug when a new boy settled onto the barstool beside him.

"Two butterbeers, please?" he asked Madame Rosemerta. My eyes were glued to him, his preppy good-looks: despite the rain, not a brown hair was out of place on his head and his features were delicate and very pretty. With a little mascara and lipstick, he could easily pass for a girl.

Casey Davies. Hogwarts' resident pretty boy. The bloke I apparently set up with my best mate.

And I didn't even know they were friends.

Rosmerta passed over two mugs and then he was up and going again. I watched him weave through the other students and reach a table near the front where his date waited. She was hardly difficult to miss with her flaming hair and emerald jumper that reminded me of Christmas. She smiled shyly as their fingertips grazed each other's when he handed her a drink; blushed suddenly and ducked her head.

If only she could see herself the way James or I did. Actually, it was probably best she didn't: she might have the biggest ego in Great Britain.

My eyes began to sting, a lump lodged in my throat – no! I had gone _so long_ without crying. So long without giving into weakness. And what was I about to shed tears over now? Lily's date? Completely not worth it.

"I need some air," I muttered to Sirius, standing abruptly. "Bye, Frank. If I happen to see Alice, I'll let her know you're here."

I pushed through the throng, vision clouding. _No, no, no, no!_

I was almost to the door when my foot caught the leg of a table and then I crumpled to the rigid floor. What was it with me and tripping lately?

"Oh, Merlin, are you ok?" I recognized the half-compassionate, half-lofty voice all too well. God, what did I ever do to you?

Wearily, I raised eyes to meet Lily's.

"I'm splendid," I whispered, voice cracking only a little. "Just perfect. You?"

She balanced on the balls of her feet. "Same. Really, really great. Never been better." She nodded to Casey sitting a meter or so away. "I'm on a date."

I ground my teeth. "I'm with a . . . friend."

She pursed her lips. "Well, I just wanted to ascertain you didn't hurt yourself. Wouldn't be the first time."

Forcing a laugh, I said, "Yes, I can be rather daft at times, can't I? Like when I switched patrol schedules with you."

Lily's nostrils flared; Casey must have realized something was wrong (took him long enough) because he appeared crouched by her side. "Is anything the matter, Lily? You alright, Johnston?"

"Of course she is," snapped Lily. She straightened and took his hand. "Amanda never needs help." She pulled him back to their table and that was the end of it.

Um, _ouch_?

I lay there for a minute, concentrating on even breathing. Then I realized I was still sprawled on the germ-infested pub floor and people were staring.

Lovely.

I clambered up and plowed through the door, face ablaze. The rain had picked up since we came inside and now hammered my face and shoulders so hard it hurt. Lightning flashed above the hills.

"Eh, lassie!" a man's voice called out to me. "What, in Morgana's name, are you doing out there?"

I turned to peer through the heavy sheet of rainfall at a man's silhouette under the awning of the shop next-door. I shuffled over to him, muscles tensed in case he tried any funny business and I needed to make a quick exit. He didn't like the type, though; he was of average build with an open face and friendly, if slightly bemused, smile.

"Erm, I'm just waiting for someone," I said. A chill shot up my sine; I shivered.

"Well, you could stay here if you don't want to go inside like a sane human would. Or you could remain in the rain . . ."

The door we stood in front of suddenly opened and out swaggered Regulus with a few mates. They sneered at me. Mostly. Regulus winked.

"Do you know that lad?" the man asked when they ran into the downpour. He was frowning at where they disappeared.

I glanced at him, inched away a bit. "Erm, yes. He's my friend."

"What's your name?"

I swallowed. Why did he want to know? "Amanda . . ."

"Amanda . . .?"

_Please don't be a stalker, please don't be a stalker . . . ._

"Johnston. Amanda Johnston."

He screwed his face up in concentration. "Half-blood?"

Oh no, he wasn't one of _those_ people, was he? The people that judged you, hated you, just because of what you were born. The people I basically planned my life around avoiding.

"Muggle-born," I forced out.

I carefully searched his expression; he didn't seem disgusted, only solemn. "I reckon you should stay away from that boy," he said gravely. "He's dangerous."

I wanted to ask this man, this complete _stranger _when he became my protector, even if my mind wasn't entirely made up that Regulus was 100 percent safe, too. However, before I got the chance, a shrill name sliced through the wind.

"Edgar! Edgar, where are you?"

He started and practically leapt to the edge of the awning. "Flora! Can you hear me?"He pulled out his wand and flicked so red sparks shot from the end.

A beaming woman materialized from the mist, holding a baby and the hands of two other children.

My heart stopped.

It was _them_.

The Bones. The family from the attack. The family that haunted my nightmares. I knew it was them, just like I knew in my dreams, as their shrieks echoed in the empty ally. As they pleaded for me to be brave.

To save their lives.

But they weren't pleading now, or shrieking, and aside from the eldest boy's frantically darting eyes (really, could you blame him?), they seemed perfectly happy.

"What are you doing here?" The man – Edgar Bones – asked, embracing each of his children and then wife.

"We wanted to surprise you," Flora smiled. She had a lovely smile – as warm as her husband's. "How's your station going? Any suspicious behavior?"

"Shhh." He placed a finger to her lips and nodded to me. Her eyes widened.

"Woops," she giggled. "Sorry."

So Edgar was an Auror. Defending the village against the very monsters that tortured his wife and kids. How fitting.

"Flora, this is my new friend, Amanda." I blinked at the introduction – when did we become _friends_? – but Flora was already shifting the baby to her husband and hugging me.

"Hello, Amanda. It's lovely to meet you." She was very pretty, I decided, with thick chestnut hair and sparkling toffee eyes. "I'm Flora; you've already met Edgar obviously; the baby in his arms is Brian; that's Edgar – er, the II – and the little one right there is Susan." The small girl waved at me from behind her daddy's legs.

"Good to meet you all, too," I managed. My blood began pumping again; they were safe. No Death Eaters leering over them, no Cruciatus Curses engulfing their bodies. The attack might not even have happened, if the smiles on their faces were anything to go by.

Except the Edgar – er, the II – was gazing at me a furrowed brow and calculating eyes. "Hey, I know you!" he burst. "I saw you; you were the one who –"

"Mandy!" A hand caught my elbow and wheeled me around. "What happened back there? I was going to go after you, but then I saw you talking to Evans, and you kind of disappeared –" Sirius' eyes slid over my shoulder. "Er, hi."

"Sirius, erm, meet the Bones," I introduced. "Bones, meet Sirius Black."

Mr. Bones' face hardened. "Well, you're just cozy with all sorts of Blacks, aren't you?"

Sirius frowned at me. "What's he going on about?"

"Nothing." I grasped Sirius' hand; he seemed to be taken by such surprise with this action that he dropped the subject. "Well, it was nice meeting you all! Thanks for keeping me company." I dragged Sirius into the street with Edgar II's final shout of, "Wait! I wanna talk to you!" ringing in my ears.

"The Bones, huh?" Sirius asked. I let go of his hand. "Some of the biggest blood-traitors out there. Right up with the Potters, Elliots, and McKinnons." Huh. I didn't know Alice and Marlene were from big blood-traitor families. James actually seemed to flaunt his status. "Where d'you know them from?"

"No where. They're just some family I met a few minutes ago."

What a lie. The Bones would always mean more to me that "just some family."

"Do you mind if we head back?" I asked, feigning a yawn. "I'm worn."

He nodded. "That's probably a good idea. Make the trek while the rain's let up." And it had, I noticed all of a sudden. Droplets dusted my cheeks instead of pelted them. Moistened my lips, rather than raced down my throat.

Sirius grinned wolfishly. "You up for a race?"

My eyebrows shot up. "What? No! I can't race you!"

"To the Black Lake. I always loved that lake."

"Sirius, that wouldn't be fair. You're athletic and long-legged and I'm scrawny and lose football to my dog."

"Ready . . ."

"I'm not racing, I hope you know. You can't make me."

"Set , , ,"

"This is utterly unjust."

"Go!"

I took off running.

-X-

He crushed me, of course. Beat me with five minutes to spare and he was barely out of breath. I, on the other hand, looked like I had died and came back to life. Maybe even without the "come back to life" part.

"_So_ . . . _unfair_ . . ." I panted. "_Bloody_ . . . _Quidditch_ _player_ . . ."

He chuckled tossed a stone to skip along the surface of the water. "Don't hurt yourself, love."

"_Not hurt_ . . . _But_ _would hurt_ . . . _you _. . ."

"Uh-huh. I'm sure you could."

"_Don't_ _mock me_ . . ."

He didn't even bother replying.

Sirius waited until I caught my breath (which took longer than any self-respecting teenager would care to admit), skipping stones. I noticed many students – boys and girls alike – stopping to marvel at his cool elegance. He wasn't real. He was like some romanticized hero in a trashy romance novel (not that I've read a lot of those . . .). "I think it's stopped raining altogether now," he remarked after a while.

Well, if you would look at that. The sun could even be seen struggling to break through the clouds.

I turned my head to see the ambling peers, laughing and pushing down their hoods, faces lifted to the muted rays as if they were blazing heat, warming the whole school. Perhaps even the world.

A flash caught my eye; I noticed Mary leaning under a beech tree a ways away, clicking pictures with her camera. The sight made me smile; I hadn't seen her like this – relaxed, detached from the whole, photographing observations that might seem ordinary to anyone else – in quite some time.

"You can go in, if you want," I muttered. "I have to talk to someone."

Sirius glanced at Mary, nodded.

"Hi there," I said when I plopped down across from her. She lowered her camera and gave a timid smile. "How are you?"

"Good. A nice day for photography."

"Do you have any I could see?"

She pulled a stack of photos from inside her cloak and passed them to me. "Sorry, but they haven't been developed in the potion, yet, so they're Muggle," she apologized.

Mary was half-blood, I think, but had a mostly magical upbringing. She forgot that, before Hogwarts, Muggle was all I really knew.

I flipped through the pictures, scanning their uniqueness in awe. Each was of an ordinary scene – giggling students, rippling lake, dewy grass – captured in an extraordinary light. How did she do it? How did she see something I saw every day and think of it as art?

My sight rested on the final picture in the stack, heart stuttering. I didn't know how she managed this angle from where sat – maybe magic – but, however she did, it blew me away.

The photograph was of Sirius and me when we stood by the lake. Hair sopping wet, Sirius grinned, his hand drawn back to toss a stone. Beside him, I was red-faced and scowling, but I detected the gleam in my eyes and barely-there twisting of my lips. I was aggravated here. And tired. But, mostly, I was happy.

He made me happy.

But he also made me hurt, more than anyone else I knew could. I guess the question remained: was the happiness worth the hurt?

"Can I keep this one?" I asked, pad of my thumb grazing my tiny face.

"Be my guest."

I tucked it in my pocket and we stayed quiet for a few minutes. I loved the girl like my sister, but communicating was difficult: Mary and I were both, in a sense, the "followers" of our group, going where Alice or Marlene or Lily asked us to, so we were hardly ever left alone. Plus, she barely talked anymore and I wasn't Miss Chatty, either.

"We miss you," Mary abruptly blurted.

I blinked. "What?"

Mary exhaled and edged closer, chocolate eyes earnest. "We miss you a lot, Mandy. Things aren't the same without you."

My heart ached, but I forced a laugh. My hand rose to twiddle my ponytail. "I'm certain you all get on just fine."

"No." Mary caught my hand and I froze, shocked at her boldness. "We don't. I mean, they might not even notice, but I do. Lily's bossier, and Alice is rougher, and Marlene . . . Marlene's a mess. She needs you."

Tough, unemotional, I-don't-need-anyone-but-myself _Marlene_? Need _me_? "No, she doesn't. She's . . . Marlene."

"And she's a teenage girl and sometimes she needs people," Mary reminded softly. She entwined our fingers. "Alice insists its nothing, but Marlene's been sick loads lately. And she's quieter, and moodier, too. I reckon I heard her crying the other night when she thought everyone was asleep."

How could that be? Marlene didn't cry. She did not show weakness, which, in her mind, ranged from sadness to happiness. Most of the moments we spent together, she acted rather bored and nonchalant. I tried to picture Marlene's face, imagine it with tears streaming down the cheeks – and literally could not.

"I think you should talk to her," Mary continued.

I started. "But . . . what could I do?"

Mary once again surprised me by chuckling. "What could you not do? Mandy, when you talk . . . when you _choose _to talk . . . people listen." I opened my mouth to protest, but she shook her head. "No, they do. Take it from someone who really knows what it's like to be ignored."

I licked my lips, fighting a wave of awkwardness. Who ignored Mary? When did she even give them the chance to be ignored? She talked less than I . . .

Mary gasped and pointed out across the lake, snatching up her camera. "Oh, Mandy, look!"

"Wha –?" My jaw dropped. Arcing against the suddenly blue sky was the most perfect rainbow I had ever seen, complete with red, orange, yellow, green – well, you get the idea. It stretched almost neon-bright for as far the eye could see, disappearing into the treetops. "Wow."

All around, people were ooh-ing and ahh-ing, pointing, thirstily drinking up such a miraculous phenomenon. It didn't seem to matter that barely a half hour ago, they were groaning about a seemingly never-ending storm.

But that's what rainbows did, right? They didn't erase the storm – it still happened and it was still difficult as could be – but they made every moment worth it.

A revelation occurred to me. At the moment, I was in a "storm." Sirius, Lily, my dad, this war, Marlene, my nightmares, all the confusion rattling inside me – everything was part of one big storm.

But my life would have its rainbow.

I was counting on it.

-X-

**A/N:** Ok . . . here goes . . .

I KNOW IT'S BEEN ALMOST THREE MONTHS AND THAT I HAVE REPLIED TO BARELY ANY REVIEWS, BUT MY COMPUTER WENT DOWN AGAIN AND WE REACHED OVER 30 REVIEWS FOR THE LAST CHAPTER AND I AM SO GRATEFUL EACH AND EVERY ONE OF YOU AND I HAVE A NEW COMPUTER AND THANK YOU FOR NOT GIVING UP ON ME!

Phew. It feels nice to get that off my chest. If you're still out there, please review telling what you think of this GINORMOUS, _loooooong_ overdue chapter, so I can reply and tell you how incredibly awesome you are.

**Next chapter:** Vomit. Lots and lots of vomit. If that doesn't excite you, I don't know what does.

Squid


	16. Bloody Unstable Teenage Hormones

**You're an Idiot, Sirius Black**

**A/N:** Watched 2 much tv had the brilliant idea to give a "brief" (I'm not terribly decent at brief) summary since I'm sure it's been a while since a lot of you have read this . . . .

**Recap: ** Following some events leading up to what she felt was a great betrayal of trust, Mandy broke off her friendship with Sirius. She's only semi-started to patch up their relationship recently.

After a petty row, Mandy is also not speaking to Lily, who is dating Casey Davies because of an event earlier in the story, when Amanda switched hers and Lily's prefect patrol schedules (Mandy was patrolling with Casey, Lily with James Potter). Now, Mandy hangs around the Marauders most of the time, and Regulus Black in the library, while she is trying to find a cure for cancer (her father's disease). She can't understand Regulus' sudden interest in her.

Professor Meadowes, the new DADA teacher, finds a perverse joy in Mandy's discomfort.

Marlene McKinnon has been acting strangely.

Mandy is plagued by nightmares about the Bones family, in which she sees them tortured, but is too afraid to step in.

**Ch. 14 Bloody Unstable Teenage Hormones **

If I expected some type of peace after meeting the Bones, if I suspected the nightmares would disappear now that I knew for certain they were alive and well, I was horribly, horribly mistaken. The dreams only intensified, grew worse and worse until I found myself staring up at the ceiling in the middle of the night, terrified of the places sleep would take me.

Life went a little something like this:

Go to sleep after hours of forced alertness; hear the screams; see the victims; feel the fear.

Wake up; take a deep breath; face another day.

Repeat indefinitely.

-X-

"Dark . . . objects." Professor Meadowes scrawled the two menacing words across the blackboard. She then turned and faced us, dusting chalk onto her robes. "Who can tell me why it is so important to learn about these terrible weapons?" A few students tentatively raised their hands. "Mr. Potter?"

Sitting at the desk in front of me, James lifted his chin and pushed back his shoulders. "In order to efficiently fight the enemy, you have to know how the enemy fights."

"Spoken like a true Auror," Meadowes said, beginning to pace around the room. I could just imagine James glowing with pride. "Now, who can tell me what a trademark of a Dark Object is? Ms. Evans?"

"They're illegal," said Lily.

"Precisely. Remember this: _all_ Dark Objects are against the law. Every single one. What's another identifying feature, Lupin?"

Beside me, Remus ran a hand through his hair. "Erm . . . Dark Objects leave significant traces?"

"Yes!" Meadowes clapped her hands together. "All magic leaves traces, but Dark Magic leaves especially noteworthy traces. Hence, Dark Objects do, too. Anyone else? How about you, Mr. Rosier? What makes Dark Objects so Dark?"

I turned in my seat; at the back of the class, Evan Rosier sneered, "They're bloody wicked."

His friends sniggered. Everybody else burst into distressed murmurs. Crammed between them at a desk meant only for two, I saw Remus and Peter exchange fretful glances.

Professor Meadowes kept her cool. "If you mean 'wicked' in the sense of evil, then you'd be right. If you meant it any other way, I suggest you don't go around saying things like that in a world as weary as ours."

When she reached the blackboard again, she wrote with the chalk: 1. ILLEGAL 2. SIGNIFICANT TRACES 3. OFFENSIVE USE. She wheeled on us. "As a general rule, Dark Objects are used solely for offense, never defense. They can't protect you from curses or other Dark Objects. They're not shields. They're only purpose is to harm. Any questions?"

We were deathly silent. Even Rosier.

"We'll be studying Dark Objects this unit," Meadowes continued. "_Real_ Dark Objects. Not the sugar-coated fairytales they talk about in textbooks. You see, the government underestimates you. They think it's too harsh to tell you the truth about Death Eaters; don't want to frighten you or something. But the fact of the matter is, the Ministry is only making you weaker by telling you Death Eaters fight fair. They don't. And that's what makes them so dangerous."

Was if just me or did the Slytherin-half of the class seem a bit antsy?

"Now, I'm certain you've learned about Dark Objects before, but I'm also fairly certain you've only learned what the Ministry of Magic has given your teachers permission to educate you. This year you'll be learning what the Ministry has deemed unsuitable – and, therefore, the most important." She conjured a slip of parchment from midair and scribbled on it. "I need a trusted student to fetch this title from the Restricted Section of the Library for me. It deals with many of the worst Dark Objects you'll ever come up against. Any volunteers?"

Several Slytherins jumped at the chance to enter the Restricted Section, waving their arms in the air. Meadowes' eyes scanned the room – and, of course came to a rest on me.

"Johnston? Would you be willing?"

I sighed and nodded; she flicked her wand and the parchment floated over to me. Typical.

Just then, the bell clanged and we immediately began to shovel our things into out bags, eager for an end to the day.

"For homework, write a two-meter essay on the three trademarks of Dark Objects, due Thursday!" Meadowes shouted over the ruckus. "And Amanda, I'd like you to bring in that book Thursday, too, okay? Make sure to pick it up?"

If it was so bleeding important, why didn't she pick it up herself? Yeesh.

"Well, that was slightly terrifying," Peter muttered as we ambled to the door.

"Are you kidding?" cried James, bouncing around like the Bambi-incarnate he was. "She called me 'a true Auror!'"

"She said you _spoke_ like a true Auror, mate," Sirius reminded. "Not that you are one."

James scowled at him. "Same difference!"

We approached the doorframe just as Lily was exiting. A boy – Walden Wilkes, I recognized, the captain of the Slytherin Quidditch team and one of the blokes that harassed me in the library – pushed roughly against her. She fell to her knees, books spilling onto the floor.

"_Mudblood!_" he coughed into his fist.

James growled deep in his throat and stepped forward as if to chase Wilkes down, but I caught his robe sleeve and nodded to Lily. She looked flustered, almost in tears, as she fumbled with her books. Immediately, James softened.

"Here, let me help you," he murmured, swiftly ducking and collecting the books. She tucked a lock of hair behind her ear.

"Oh, thank you, er . . ." She raised her eyes and her mouth fell open. "Potter." Her eyes drifted over his shoulder to me; she blinked once, then again, before hopping up and speeding away.

James leaned back on his heels. "Well, that went well."

I laughed. "Do you even _know_ Lily? She might as well have just declared her undying love for you." I glanced at the clock on the wall. "I'm going to go find this book now, get it out of the way. See you."

They muttered their goodbyes and I set out for the library. A sort of illogical excitement gripped me; I had never been to the Restricted Section before. I'd never had the reason to.

When I reached the library, I forced myself to approach Madame Pince. This, frankly, went against nature – I usually made it a point to avoid Pince at all costs.

"Excuse me?" I asked the librarian. "I've, er, got permission to go in the Restricted Section . . ."

She greedily snatched the parchment from me, peering at it over her beak-like nose. "Mmm-hmm. Follow me."

She led me to a back corner of the library – the one opposite from mine. A velvet rope, like something from an old Hollywood film, acted as the only barrier between two average people and innumerable tomes of knowledge so horrific it was rumored Pince herself hadn't even read them (and Madame Pince read _everything_). I cast a nervous look to her; she nodded and I stepped over the rope.

A shadowy gloom hung over the aisle, and most of the books, ranging from pamphlet-sized to meter thick, didn't even have inscriptions on their spines. How was I supposed to navigate this mess? I turned around to ask Pince, but she was already gone.

Gulping, I hesitantly trailed my fingers along spines as I glanced at the title Professor Meadowes designated: _The Complete and Total Guide to Dark Objects. _How original.

"Okay, it's got to be here somewhere," I muttered to myself. I plucked an ordinary-looking book from a shelf. It was simple, leather-bound, frayed at the edges. Perfect, no?

I flicked it open and felt a surge of disappointment; the pages were blank. I was about to close it and move on when something stopped me. Pictures were beginning to materialize against the yellowed parchment, as if an invisible hand painted them before my eyes. The most beautiful pictures I had ever seen: the beach, my family, friends, the old swing set I used to love so much – all captured in faultless detail. The colors were so vivid; I could practically hear my little brother's giggles and the dog woofing; Lily reminding me to be punctual, amusement masked behind her stern words; Sirius' barking laugh; my father whispering how much he loved me in my ear; thunderous waves crashing over jagged rocks. I could stand here like this, drinking in these sights, smells, sounds, for hours on end . . .

Abruptly, the book was yanked from my grasp. I stumbled back. "Wha -?"

"This isn't very healthy light reading," Regulus said, placing the tome in its place.

"Huh?"

"You'll never want to put it down."

I blinked rapidly, distilled the resentment prickling my stomach; I should be grateful. Even if the colors _were_ pretty, I hardly wanted to be cooped up in this place for the rest of my life. "Reg," I finally managed. "Hi."

He cocked an eyebrow. "Hi yourself."

"Erm . . . what are you doing here?"

He flashed a signed note. "Slughorn likes me. You?"

"I have to get a book for Defense." I forced a shaky chuckle. "I suppose you could say Meadowes likes me, too, though she has an odd way of showing it."

He smiled and moved to put away a different book he held.

"Thanks, by the way," I said, following him along the aisle. "For, you know, rescuing me. You seem to do that a lot." _Almost as much as your brother_, I silently added.

Regulus froze. Slowly, he turned to face me, stormy eyes penetrating. "I'm not a hero, Mandy," he whispered. "I never claimed to be. Remember that, ok? I just do what has to be done."

"Oh, er . . ." How was I supposed to respond to that? Or maybe he didn't expect a response at all, I reasoned, because he continued to the spot his book belonged like nothing was even said.

I decided for a change of subject. "Do you know how to find books in this place? Meadowes gave me a title – _The Complete and Total Guide to Dark Objects_ – but that's it, and as you saw, trial-and-error wasn't really working for me . . ."

Unexpectedly, he laughed out loud. "Come on, then." He led me back the way we came and nodded at the shelf I'd previously examined. "See anything familiar?"

First, I noticed the Book I Could Read Forever – and then, propped next to it, a dusty spine inscribed with _The Complete and Total Guide to Dark Objects_. Ignoring Regulus' uproarious chuckling, I grabbed the book and raced from the Restricted Section, nearly hurtling over the velvet rope. I reckon I'd be happy if I never had to step foot in that hell-hole again.

Regulus' laughter followed me.

"Ha ha," I drawled, plopping down at a nearby table. I leaned my chin on my hand and glared at him. "Very mature. Mock the blonde."

"Don't be silly." Regulus sat across from me. "It would've been funny no matter what you hair color."

I made a face and he doubled over again. When he looked up, his face startled me: smooth, untroubled, _young_. Merlin, he was only a baby and so much of the time he seemed veiled by a thick curtain, drawn between him and the world, shrouding the person he really was. The only true insights I gained on the boy – other than on his rotten love life – were from these infinitesimal moments. Probably meaningless to random passerby, but so meaningful to me.

Absently, I brushed through the pages of my newfound book. Many of the pictures I glimpsed were diagrams and charts, or photos of seemingly ordinary objects, but some depicted people suffering gruesome deaths.

"Cheerful, isn't this?" I remarked.

"Ha, not quite the word I would choose." He stretched out a hand and fingered the binding. "I had it memorized by the age of ten, you know."

I glanced up, eyebrows rising. "Your parents let you read _this_?" I didn't mean to sound so accusatory – not entirely – but this book was from the Restricted Section . . .

Regulus shook his head. "Nah, I don't reckon they actually knew. I loved books as a kid and snuck around our library all the time when they thought I was playing in my room or something. Sirius hated everything to do with reading; I doubt they expected anything more from me."

I held my breath; Regulus _never_ spoke his childhood or home life and I never brought it up. I always figured it was an unspoken rule.

"We always were interchangeable, for the most part," he continued. "At least in the very beginning. But then my dear brother decided to start being the idiot he was . . . and then, of course, he up and left us . . ."

Sirius_ left_? "What?" I asked. "What do you mean?"

He frowned. "Er . . . Sirius left? He flew the coop? He's gone?"

"You mean he doesn't live at Number 12 anymore?"

Regulus' frown relaxed into a bemused smile. "He never told you?"

I shrugged one shoulder and shook my head.

"Huh." Regulus leaned back, eyeing me like I just morphed into Albus Dumbledore before his eyes. "Interesting. I always just assumed he told you everything . . ."

We sat there, me growing more uncomfortable under his scrutiny by the second. Feeling a desperate need to change the subject, I said, "You talk big, Mr. I-Memorized-Huge-Books-When-I-Was-Just-A-Baby. I bet you don't even know what a –" I flipped _The Complete and Total Guide to Dark Objects _open to a random page, "'Blade of Mortality' is?"

This tactic seemed to work; his expression cleared slightly and he smirked. "Love, 'Blade of Mortality' were my first words."

That's when I first felt it: a completely ominous sensation beginning with tingly warmth in the pit of my stomach that worked its way up my chest and cheeks and eyelids. A sensation I felt was somehow connected to Regulus' use of the word "love."

Oh dear. Not good. Not good at _all_.

"Uh-huh." I pressed the book to my abdomen, forcing the butterflies out. "Prove it."

He ginned slyly and leaned on his elbows. "One prick from it sucks the victim's life away. Almost like a dementor's kiss, but the soul stays intact. The death can be fast or slow, depending on where the victim was stabbed and the size of the cut. My cousin actually has one, and if you managed to overlook the goriness of it all they're pretty damn incredible."

Regulus stood and moved to stand behind me. My deltoids tensed.

He rested a hand on the crook of my shoulder, thumb pressing lightly against my pulse point, but with just enough pressure to alarm me. His other hand wedged in between the book and my body – coming _dangerously _close to a certain off-limits part of my anatomy – and pushed it down to the table.

"See that?" he breathed in my ear. His breath tickled my neck hairs. "Those words right there, on the knife?" I _made_ my eyes focus on the photograph of a steel dagger: Engraved upon it, barely big enough to read, were the words_, Efil ruoy eme viguoyd naed albym uoy evigi._ "They say, _'I give you my blade and you give me your life.'_"

I shivered.

He squeezed my shoulder – I could practically _feel_ an arrogant smirk radiating off him – and straightened. "See you later, Mandy."

I waited until the noise of his footsteps was long gone before thumping my head against the table.

-X-

The ordeal was nothing but "bloody unstable teenage hormones," obviously.

Or at least that was what I stressed to Peter the next morning.

"Boys are so stupid, aren't they Peter?" I asked, spread-eagled on the couch like a shrink patient. "I mean, it's like they say one thing but mean something else entirely. Is it their whole goal to confuse us? Why can't they just _say_ what they're feeling, for Merlin's sake? Wouldn't that be easier than acting all macho and mysterious?"

Peter squirmed. "Er . . ."

"Do blokes think the same thing about girls, Peter? That we're mad? Maybe both sides think the other is mad because neither realizes they're mad, too, and therefore we're actually all normal. Does that even make sense?"

"Not really . . ."

I sighed. "You know what the real problem is, Pete? School. All those bloody unstable teenage hormones trapped in one place; a loss in translation from one gender to the other is inevitable!"

At that moment, the rest of the Marauders decided to grace us with their company.

"Bloody unstable teenage hormones?" asked Sirius. "You're not talking about me again, are you?"

"No, Sirius," I said, sitting up and conjuring up my best holier-than-thou voice. "This might astonish you, but it's a simple fact of life: not _everyone_ is _always_ talking about _you_."

"Madness!" He grabbed a pillow and threw it at me. It hit my face. Idiot.

"Children, children," said James, nasally. "Please stop you bickering, there's enough Uncle James love to go around!"

I attempted to smother myself with the pillow. Remus, inexplicable mind reader he was, sensed my self-destructive thoughts and snatched it from my hands.

"So!" James continued. "Breakfast, my dear men?" I shot him a pointed look. "And, erm, women?"

Mumbling assent that clearly proved our majority would much rather be in bed this fine Wednesday morning, we set off for breakfast.

When we reached the Great Hall, someone barreled into me, knocking me to the floor.

"Oh!" I exclaimed. I raised my face – and was extremely surprised to see Marlene sprawled next to me.

"Sorry, Mandy!" she said. She clambered from the floor and dashed past me.

I blinked. Well, that was odd. Standing up, my eyes drifted to the Griffindor table and I saw Mary staring hard in my direction. She nodded to where Marlene disappeared.

Hardly needing telling twice, I ran to catch up with my crazed dorm mate.

"Mar!" I called. Most kids had either filed in already, or were skipping breakfast altogether, so the Entrance Hall was fairly empty. "Marlene!"

I strained my ears; there, up ahead in a hallway branching off from the main room, running trainers echoed.

"Marlene, wait!" I sprinted after her, pushing everything into my legs. Normally, she'd be able to outrun me in a heartbeat – but I could hear her slowing, her jagged breath. "Mar . . ."

I rounded the corner; at the other end of the corridor, panting outside a girl's lavatory was Marlene. She wiped her hand on her robes.

Trying to keep the huffing to a minimum, I jogged to her side. I grabbed her elbow and spun her to face me. Not a good sign; Marlene usually refused to be "manhandled" by anyone. "Marlene, what's going on with you? Everyone's been worried sick –"

And then, I quite literally ate my own words as dear Marlene vomited all over me.

Shell-shocked. Flabbergasted. Utterly bowled over. Pick whatever term you'd like; that was the emotion swelling within me.

She yanked her arm from my grasp, swiped her mouth, and pushed into the loo.

"Mandy!" Lily's voiced yelled. "Where'd Mar go?"

I made the dire mistake of inhaling through my nose; I caught the putrid smell and it wafted down my throat. Bile rose . . . my cheeks pinched painfully . . . Sweet Merlin . . .

"Mandy?" Lily's hand on my shoulder forced me to face her. "What happened to Marlene? I thought you went after her –"

Lily was speaking to me in a civilized manner for the first time in weeks. But, being me, I just had to ruin this glorious moment by puking on her, too.

Wow. My awkwardness just increased by ten-fold.

I swallowed – fighting another wave of nausea – and lingered in anxious anticipation for her reaction. Would she yell? Pull out her wand and hex me silly? Be the bigger person and stalk away?

Lily opened her mouth, deliberate; I braced myself for pain, shame, an unnecessarily loud voice, or perhaps all three; but, if she planned on any sort of rebuttal, it was drowned by the giggles escaping.

She clapped a hand over her mouth but the laughter continued. And, before my eyes, prim and proper, control-freak Lily Evans was reduced to a puddle of hysterics on the floor.

First, I stared. Then, I snorted. And soon I had joined her, gripping my sides against constant onslaughts of amusement.

Under any other circumstances, this would have been revolting. But here we were, two teenagers not on speaking terms, covered in sick – and it was _bleeding hilarious_.

I don't know how long we leaned against the wall, clutching each other like our lives depended on it_, laughing, laughing, laughing_ when nothing was remotely funny. Too soon, however, we began to sober.

Our breaths came heavy, my back ached, and Lily's head lolled on my shoulder. What time was it? Had lessons begun yet? Did Marlene already leave and we didn't even notice? Had no time even passed at all?

"I'm sorry," I blurted. Words tumbled from my mouth, overflowing, unable to be released quickly enough. I bore no clue what I was saying, only that it needed to be said. "I didn't mean it – about snogging Snape – and I felt _terrible _afterward, truly. I was just upset, and stupid, and, Lily, I love being your friend and we can't spend the rest of Hogwarts estranged –"

"We were both stupid," Lily cut me off, looking me in the eye. "I didn't have any right to start accusing you of – of _anything_. That was so hypocritical of me. I mean, I used to get so upset every time anyone questioned my friendship with Severus – and, well, if there's one thing the Marauders aren't, it's Death Eaters. I just . . ." She ducked her head, twiddled her thumbs for a second, before meeting my gaze again. "Everybody thinks they're so perfect, you know? In this school, you either fear the Marauders, or worship the Marauders, or maybe both. I thought you were the one other person that saw beneath the façade. That I wasn't alone because you knew they're not all they're cracked up to be, too."

"Lily . . ." I put my arm around her and she snuggled close. "I still don't think they're perfect. They still irritate the hell out of me. But . . . they're good. Beneath the arrogance and the prejudice against Slytherins and every other bad deed they've ever committed . . . they accept people. And they're kind and clever. Funny. And they love each other more than any band of blood brothers possibly could, I reckon."

Lily didn't seem convinced, but she nodded nonetheless. "Well, if you can accept them, I can accept your friendship with them." Her eyes darted to the side and she cleared her throat. "Plus, I have come to terms with the fact that I may be a _tad_ controlling."

Beaming, I nudged her with my elbow, eliciting the faintest smile. "And there's a possibility I _sometimes_ can't accept help when I should."

She laughed.

And I knew everything would be ok for us.

-X-

**A/N:** My updating skizzles are off the heezy, yo!

_Any_way . . . What did you think? I'm not completely certain about it, but I really wanted to get this chapter out before next week when I will be gone at **THE WIZARDING WORLD OF HARRY POTTER!** *angels sing*. Don't you just love that there are people out there willing to indulge your obsessions (for money, but still!)?

**Question**: Regulus: super smexy, or super creepy? Or maybe a mix of both?

Now! Review, my loves! Review like you've reviewed before!

(Pardon this A/N. I'm rather HIGH on LIFE right now.)

Squid XD


	17. Effing Volatile

**You're an Idiot, Sirius Black**

**Recap:** After a petty row, Amanda and Lily have now forgiven each other (and themselves), and are close as they ever were. Lily is has a new boyfriend that Amanda unwittingly set her up with when she switched their prefect patrolling schedules so Lily would not have to spend too much time in James Potter's presence.

Mandy is in possession of a Dark Objects book that Professor Meadowes requested she pick up for the next DADA class.

Lastly, Mandy is struggling with the realization that she might fancy her library-buddy, Regulus. You know. Maybe.

**Ch. 15 Effing Volatile**

I couldn't sleep that night.

I tossed and turned, sweating under the weighty comforter, eyelids growing heavy, but brain racing too fast to doze. Finally, I swung my legs off my bed and hunched in the blackness of the night. Alice was murmuring unintelligibly, Marlene's breaths were shallow and rattled in her chest – but, for the most part, the room was silent.

My hand fumbled clumsily for my wand on my nightstand and accidentally smacked something heavy and thick. It tumbled into my lap with a dull thump.

"Oof," I breathed, just as my fingers curled around a narrow stick. "_Lumos_," I murmured, bringing it to my lap; a thin beam of light shot from the tip of my wand, illuminating _The Complete and Total Guide to Dark Objects_ sprawled haphazardly open. I'd be giving it to Professor Meadowes tomorrow – well, today, if it was after midnight – and had propped it on my bedside table, so as not to forget.

The light fell on the page number _302_. Absentmindedly, I swiveled the beam to the adjacent page before directing it back.

_Wait . . . what?_

I shone the light at the second page number again, to see it read _307_. 303 did come after 302, right? I bent my head closer to the book, squinting in the dim glow. Sure enough, I could just make out two scraggly page nubs in the crease between 302 and 307, like someone had ripped the other two pages – 303/304 and 305/306 – straight from the book.

The notion was horrific. What person with a semi-intact soul would disfigure a library book so?

Oh dear. I do believe I just sounded like Madame Pince.

Shoving away the dastardly thought, I skimmed pages 302 and 307: they were articles about an oddly shaped brass object, called a _Horaceo_ (created by someone named Horaceo); and a Horn of Horror, respectively. With names like these for Dark Objects, it was a wonder they were feared at all.

I imagined what the missing pages had been about, though immediately regretted it. In a book of terrible artifacts that could do terrible things, what did pages 303 through 306 have that warranted them to be torn out? And what library-goer could have possibly sneaked around Pince, who, it was rumored, could hear paper tearing in Australia? Maybe a stupid student snuck out in the middle of the night . . . but that would have been risky. The only people I knew who'd be able to pull off a stunt like this were the Marauders and each one of them hated the Dark Arts with a passion.

Then again, I didn't know many people. But something still nagged at me that this wasn't the work of an irresponsible student with an interest in Dark Objects . . . the reason was something more, deeper. I could just_ feel _it.

_No_, a voice inside my head chastised. _You're deluding yourself._ I was groggy and disoriented and dreaming up things that weren't real.

But my curiosity ached and I _really_ wanted to know . . .

Accio _slippers_, I thought absently and they slid onto my feet. With another swish of my wand, my new Chudley Cannons sweatshirt was being pulled over my flannel pajamas. Ah, the_ Accio_ charm. How easy it made my life.

A rather absurd thought began to wriggle into my mind, stretching through all the miniscule cracks of defense. It would be so easy . . .

But the pages might not even be in the castle. And, if they were, the thief probably took precautions against this. But _still_ . . .

Almost of their own accord, my thoughts drifted into, Accio _pages three-oh-three, three-oh-four, three-oh-five, and three-oh-six of_ The Complete and Total Guide to Dark Objects, as my wrist flicked. I held my breath and waited . . . and waited . . . and _waited _. . .

After about five minutes, I huffed disappointedly. Though I don't know what I expected, really: by some twist of luck, for the missing pages to burst through the door and zoom valiantly into my hands? Yes, because life so often worked that way.

Pursing my lips, I tucked the book under my elbow and tiptoed my way through the shadows, down the stairs, and into the Common Room. I flopped onto a sofa and gazed at the dying embers in the fireplace, before flipping the book ajar again and beginning to read.

This probably wasn't the brightest thing to do in the middle of the night, sitting alone near a rapidly subsiding fire, especially since nightmares plagued me frequently; but curiosity and boredom truly were a dangerous mix.

My eyes darted hesitantly, yet urgently from page to page, trying, trying, _trying _to comprehend such outlandish and appalling ideas. Every object was different, and yet uncannily similar. The same words kept floating off the pages to me: pain, torture, suffering,_ death_ . . . .

"Mandy?"

I started and drew my legs to my chest, automatically raising my wand to the boys' dormitory stair case. Sirius met my gaze, unblinking.

"Oh," I breathed, unsure whether to be relieved or perturbed. "It's you."

He raised his eyebrows. "No need to sound quite so disappointed."

I shot him a glare, but there was no vehemence behind it. "What are you doing up?"

"Couldn't sleep. You?"

"Same."

Out of pure politeness, and not because I wanted to feel his strong body next to me after such disturbing reading at _all_, I made room for him on the sofa. He came and took the seat beside me.

We sat there for a moment, listening to the noise of our own breathing and heartbeats. I was content to bask in the silence – it didn't feel very awkward. Probably because I was too unnerved to make it so.

Finally, he said, "So."

"So," I repeated.

He cleared his throat. "Er, you've made up with Evans then?"

"Yup." I popped the 'p.'

"That's good."

"Uh-huh."

"I mean, I still think she's a stick in the mud, but you seem to like her, I suppose."

"Yeah." We were quiet again, when his words registered. "Wait, Lily's not a stick in the mud!"

He grinned wolfishly. "Of course she's not."

"Really!" I continued. "She's nice, witty – no more a stick in the mud than I am."

Casting me a doubtful glance, he said, "No offense, but that doesn't speak wonders."

I gasped. "You're such a –,"

He turned his head to me and my sentence caught in my throat.

Because I hadn't realized we'd been sliding closer together, gradually, but now are noses were nearly touching.

"A what?" he whispered huskily. Probably in what he assumed was an "alluring" voice. Pssh, I was anything but allured.

Really.

"An idiot. " I shoved him roughly away from me and the book slipped to the ground. I bent down, but Sirius beat me to it.

"_The Complete and Total Guide to Dark Objects_?" he read off the spine. He frowned. "Why do you have this?"

I forced myself not to snatch it back. "It's just the book I had to get for Meadowes' class."

"And you're reading it?"

For some reason, I felt a bit ashamed. "I woke up and it was there and – why am I even telling you this? It's none of your business! Do you think I'm going to become a Death Eater or something? Me, the teenage, Gryffindor, Muggle-born witch?"

Sirius averted his eyes and, abruptly, I remembered my words to Lily this morning: _"There's a possibility I sometimes can't accept help when I should."_

I bit back a groan. So maybe this was a prime example of that . . . though I didn't _actually_ need help. Honest.

"I won't read any more tonight, ok?" I proposed, gently extricating the book from his grasp. "I'll wait until class to learn it all."

He looked at me quizzically, but his mouth slowly twisted into a smile, eyes unfathomable and intense as ever. Like he could see right through me, into my very essence, but I didn't even have a hope of catching a glimpse into him.

It was my turn to look away, resist his magnetic pull.

"I heard you don't live in Grimauld Place anymore," I blurted. A heat rose up my cheeks at my bluntness and I twiddled my thumbs.

Sirius flicked me a glance, but didn't question my source of information, for which I was grateful. "You heard right. I ran away before Sixth Year, went to live with the Potters. And then my uncle Alphard – favorite uncle, you know, always snuck me treacle tart before dinner when he visited – he died and left bucket loads of money to me. Bought myself a flat recently in Westminister."

I studied his face in vain – above all else, Sirius excelled at the art of being emotionless.

"Why'd you run away?" I asked.

Shrugging languidly, he countered, "Why not? They treated me like filth because they couldn't make me into another puppet for their show." Sirius eyed the ash in the hearth, barely prickling with heat now, and seemed to contemplate something. "I was always different, you know," he whispered. "I'm not sure why . . . but I was. Where my brother and cousins soaked up everything preached to them like it was the last cup of tea on Earth, I questioned it. I didn't understand . . . so I started to rebel, sneaking out, pulling pranks. Mum and Dad thought it was a phase." He looked at me, lips quirking. "And then, of course, I met you. And you were so amazing, but so obviously _Muggle_, that I figured something my parents taught me had to be wrong."

Weren't we five or six when we met? He was a lot brighter than I gave him credit for.

"I was_ not_ 'so obviously Muggle,' thank you very much," I said, trying to cover my sudden and incredible admiration for him. Or at least the six-year-old him. "In fact, most Muggles knew there was something clearly_ not_ Muggle about me. That's why I had no friends and was forced to settle with the likes of you."

"Nah," he laughed, "you would've been miserable without me!"

Probably. But I wasn't about to tell him that.

"Don't you wish," I muttered and, once more, the quiet took over. It felt charged, crackling with tension as we both searched for the right words. In the end, though, neither of us could find them.

I glanced at him and found him staring intently at me, as if trying to put the last few pieces of a puzzle together when they just wouldn't _fit_; he quickly turned away and yawned, although it sounded mightily forced.

"Erm, I'm a bit tired now, think I'll try to kip off before lessons." He stood up; without a backwards glance, headed to the dormitory stairs.

"Sirius?" I blurted.

He whirled around. "Hmm?"

"Er . . . never mind. I was just going to say – never mind."

"Mmm-hmm." And he disappeared into the darkness.

I groaned aloud. Would I ever – _ever _– grow out of my awkwardness? Mum said it was just part of being a teenager, but I was already seventeen, and I still showed no signs of becoming cooler.

I was about to delve into a longwinded, inner rant of what an utter moron I was, when I heard something slapping at the portrait hole, like a person was pounding on the Fat Lady with a flat hand. I scanned the common room nervously before raising my wand and walking over; I shoved the portrait open and two sheets of parchment blew into my hands with such force I staggered slightly.

"What the -?" I muttered, but my breath caught as my eyes halted on the tiny number at the bottom of a page: _303._ Carefully, with light fingers, I turned the sheet over and examined the bottom edge; sure enough, the number 302 stared up at me.

Breathing suddenly labored, my eyes traveled upward to the faded, yet bold heading at the top of the page, which, if one knew not where these papers came from or why they were here, would appear completely innocuous. But I knew better.

_Horcrux. _

-X-

"Just because I accept _you're_ mates with them, doesn't mean I have to be, too!" Lily exclaimed incredulously, after I casually remarked that we should sit with the boys today. I grimaced; even though I expected this reaction, her shrill voice still cut at my ears.

"I'm not asking you to be," I said, complacent. "I just thought we could eat with them this morning."

She huffed and continued stalking the corridor. However our row and the small insights we gained from it influenced our future actions, they certainly did not make Lily any less resolute in her opinions.

"_Help,"_ I mouthed to Alice, Mary, and Marlene, a little ways behind us. Loyal friends they were, they immediately jumped to my aid.

"I don't mind sitting there," spoke Alice. "I admire the Marauders. They've gotten even more detentions than I have."

Not _exactly_ the best thing to say, but I supposed her heart was in the right place.

"Remus and Peter are nice," said Mary. "James and Sirius used to make fun of me when we were younger, but they hardly ever do anymore."

Ok, so maybe that could've been worded a tad differently . . . .

"I've never talked much to any of the Marauders," Marlene said, picking at her nails. "We never really bothered much with talking when we were –"

"Alright, none of you are helping!" I interrupted. "The point is, if it came down to it, Lily, you very well know whether I would choose you lot or them. But that still doesn't mean I want the situation to arise. Don't ask me to choose, Lils."

"Don't dramatize this, Man," Lily countered in an identical tone. "I'm not making you 'choose.' I just don't want to sit with them, is all."

We reached the entrance to the Great Hall and I skipped in front of her, with my most pleading expression. Her nostrils flared slightly, shoulders tensed for flight-or-fight, and then deflated.

"Ok, I'll eat with them this morning. But only because I'm very non-controlling."

Grinning, I dragged her to the Gryffindor table. "You are the most non-controlling person I've ever met!"

Behind us, Marlene, Alice, and Mary burst out laughing. We ignored them.

"Wotcher, gents!" I said, channeling the obnoxious Marauder that lives in us all, and squeezing onto the bench between Sirius and James. James' eyes widened, carefully following Lily's form as she sat across from us, next to Remus and Peter. Mary and Alice took Remus and Peter's other side, and Marlene plopped beside Sirius.

Aw. We were like one adorable, little Gryffindor family.

"Now we're even," I breathed in James' ear.

"You didn't owe me anything," he whispered back, but I noticed the beginnings of a goofy smile lighting up his face. He wasn't complaining.

"Just remember to behave yourselves," I muttered, nudging Sirius with my elbow pointedly.

He smirked, eyes traveling to the side. "Good luck with that."

"Wha -?" I twisted in my seat; there, striding toward with us with carefully gelled hair and a glazed smile, like something straight from the cover of "Witch Weekly," was Casey Davies. Lily's new boyfriend.

"Hello, love," he chirped, wedging himself between Peter and Lily. She beamed brightly, snuggling up to his side, as his perfectly manicured hand lightly caressed her hip.

How sickeningly cute.

James tensed beside me; my cheeks burnt red-hot in shame. Since walking in on their date at Hogsmeade, I'd forgotten about Casey. No offense to him intended, but he was a rather forgettable bloke.

Lily pecked Casey on the cheek, all starry-eyed and whatnot. James stabbed viciously at his eggs. My heart broke a little.

"James . . . I'm sorr –,"

"Mandy, you know Casey, don't you?" Lily asked.

I swallowed my apology and offered Casey a polite smile. "Prefect duty."

"Oh, that's right!" said Lily. "You patrolled with him before me, didn't you? I've never properly thanked you for that, by the way. If you hadn't been so kind, offering to switch patrol spots with me, Casey and I probably would have never gotten together." They beamed at each other, lost in their blissful honey-moon phase of perfection.

I froze. Oh no. Oh _nonononono_.

I didn't want to look. I _couldn't_. I literally could not bring myself to face the possible look of betrayal, the hurt, the "Why-the-hell-did-you-do-this-to-me?" It would be too painful, too raw, too _my fault_. I could. Not. _Look._

But I had to.

Slowly, I turned my face to meet James' blank eyes. Not accusing, or hurt, just staring. Boring into mine with a striking intensity.

"It was before I got to know you," I murmured, under my breath. "Before I realized what a catch you are. And I didn't even expect them to – I mean, I knew she fancied him a little, but I didn't think –"

Abruptly, James stood, fork clattering to his golden plate. He snatched up his satchel and walked coolly away, out of the Great Hall.

"I'm sorry," I whispered brokenly, watching him disappear and ignoring Lily's snide remarks about his "inexcusably rude" departure. "I'm so sorry."

Lazily, Sirius plopped a roasted potato in his mouth. "Aren't we all?"

-X-

Arriving in my isle of the library that evening, I was hardly surprised to find Regulus already there, hastily working on what must have homework. However, I was _not_ prepared for the onslaught of butterflies flapping in my stomach at the small smile he offered me. I stalled for a moment, before quickly brushing the feeling away.

"You look determined," he said, closing his book and setting his quill beside him.

"I want to talk to you about something." I sat across from him, legs crossed like a pretzel, and rifled in my bag. Carefully, I pulled out the pages from _The Complete and Total Guide to Dark Objects_, paper clipped together, and pushed them into Regulus' waiting hands. "Could you possibly . . . explain what these are?"

Regulus' eyes ran languidly over the front page. "Well, they look like the ripped out pages of a book." He arched an eyebrow at me accusatorily.

I fought an eye roll. "I know _that_. What I mean is, could you explain the object. The . . . the Horcrux."

"Here's a thought!" Regulus exclaimed, eyes brightening sarcastically. "How about_ I_ finish my Charms essay, and _you_ read all about the . . . whatever it's called. The Horcux."

A furious pinkness rose in my cheeks, but I refused to back down. "Well, I was going to, but I figured you could give me, like . . . the shorter, less graphic version? Since you've read the book and all."

His eyebrows furrowed. "What book?"

At his blank look, a tiny spark of alarm flared inside me. "You know . . . The Total and Complete Guide to Dark Objects? These came from the book . . . I thought you had it memorized . . ."

"I do. These aren't from the book. Or at least, not the one in my home library." Regulus bent over the pages, suddenly much more interested. "Maybe I have an older edition . . . that Horcruxes hadn't been discovered yet when it was published. Fascinating . . ."

I watched, enthralled, as something bloomed to life behind his eyes: dark, and passionate, and so, so hungry. Lustful. Only, that hardly made sense. Because when a teenage boy's eyes shone with lust, you would expect him to be looking at a pretty girl (or boy, depending on which way the wind blew). But Regulus wasn't focused on a pretty girl, or boy, or any person . . . rather the words in front of him, words I knew must be laced with danger, horror, pain.

And for every bit his reaction intrigued me, it terrified me even more.

"You know, Regulus, it's getting a bit late. We'll have dinner soon – why don't we head up, and you can teach me all about Horcruxes later?"

He flipped the first page over, finger trailing along the pregnant sentences.

"Regulus!" I snapped, more than a little unnerved. Finally, he looked up.

"Wha -?" he began dazedly, before his expression cleared. "Oh, right. Yeah, let's do that."

He shoveled his things into his bag and tossed it over his shoulder, and then we were lagging out the library, content in the quiet.

"So, er," Regulus broke the silence, as he offered a small smile to Madame Pince; I did the same, "could I ask you something."

"Hmm?" I murmured, watching the way a single stray hair dangled in his eye. Fought the urge to reach over, brush it away.

"You know the Slug Club – Slughorn's little group for all his favorites? Well, every year he has a holiday party – and every year I pick the most annoying date possible. So . . ."

My heart rate sped. "So . . .?"

"Well, I was just wondering if –,"

"Mandy!" a voice cut across Regulus' as we stepped out of the library. I turned to the sound of footsteps, mildly surprised to spot Sirius' tall form loping towards us. "Hey, I was looking for you! Listen, I just talked to James, and . . . and he, um . . ." His voice trailed off, eyes flickering to Regulus, confused."What are _you _doing here?"

Regulus' eyes sparked like a blazing wildfire. "None of your bloody business, is it?"

Well, this could easily get out of hand . . .

"Reg's my friend, Sirius," I stated, finality evident in my tone. "Now, what was it you were saying? About James?"

But Sirius was distracted by matters clearly more important than whatever he had been talking to his best mate about. He turned his hard gaze on me – and where Regulus' eyes were a wildfire, Sirius' were a tropical storm, churning, and windy, and capable of destroying towns with just one gust. I was used to his anger, though – and I could stand up to it with barely a flicker of fear.

"'_Reg_?'" he repeated. "Well, aren't you two just _cozy_?"

Disdainful, I shot Regulus a frown. He smirked, entire posture antagonistic, and I decided they were both immature idiots.

"We are really not doing this here," I stated. "I'll see you around, Reg. Let's_ go_, Sirius."

Before I could usher the older Black off to dinner, or somewhere equally far away, Regulus caught my hand. I froze, because he didn't _acknowledge _me in public. Sure, there were the subtle winks and shared grins, and he never tried to hide if someone saw us in the library together, but he still didn't go out of his way to draw attention to our relationship – whatever it was. Which meant no touching in public. No playful bumping of elbows. No grazed knees, or pats on the back, or friendly ruffling of the hair. And _especially_ no _handholding_.

I probably gawped at him for about two minutes straight before I realized he was waiting for me to say something.

"Oh, erm – come again?" I sputtered.

Regulus continued, like hespontaneously grabbed my hand in hallways full of people all the time. Like Sirius _wasn't_ standing over us, fuming. Like my insides weren't absolutely mad with butterflies.

"What I wanted to ask you was if you'd be willing to accompany me to Slughorn's holiday party? I know it wouldn't be miserable with you there."

Maybe it was the earnest, _adorable_ look on his face. Maybe it was Sirius hovering to the side and how I never seemed able to pass up an opportunity to spite him. Maybe it was the fact that I could count the number of times I'd been asked out, even a little bit, on one hand. But, for whatever reason, I heard myself agreeing without a second thought, saying I looked forward to it, beaming a grin Regulus easily returned. And when he walked away, my cheeks were flushed, nerves mottled, heart alternating between sprints and standstills; so excited, so happy – until I remembered Sirius.

Immediately guarding my expressions, I turned on him, ready to take the defensive – and was shocked at the unadulterated hurt clouding his face. Even more unsettling, he made no move to mask it.

We stood. Just staring. Me, guarded; him, vulnerable. A strange, strange reversal of roles.

It was new, exciting, especially since I so_ detested_ the feeling of him searching my soul . . . but I didn't like it. It wasn't right. It didn't . . . fit us.

"How long have you two been . . .?" He waved his hand vaguely, like that explained everything. It didn't. And yet I understood.

"I dunno . . . maybe a little over a month now?" I shrugged offhandedly, desperately fighting away guilt as another wave of betrayal crashed over him. Which was silly. Because he had no right to feel betrayal and I had no obligation to be guilty over it. "Now, what you were saying before you went off on your little tangent and –?"

"You fancy him."

No question. No doubt. A simple statement of fact – one that left me reeling.

"You're ridiculous." I turned on my heel and marched in the direction of the Great Hall. He easily matched my stride.

Bastard.

"I am not," he said. "It's written all over your face."

"You have no clue what –,"

"He's going to hurt you, you know."

A lump lodged in my throat. But, to my credit, my purposeful stride barely wavered. "Can you not take a hint?" I bit out harshly. "We are _not_ having this –,"

Before I could finish my sentence, his long fingers wrapped around my forearm and he dragged me into an empty classroom, locked the door behind him. Let go of me, without even being so considerate as to help me regain my footing.

In short, he _manhandled_ me.

I was furious.

No, I was beyond furious.

I was effing _volatile_.

"Sirius," I spoke, facing him, voice but a calm whisper. "Let me out of this room, or I swear to_ God_ that I will castrate you with nothing but a quill and a pair of _scissors_."

Sirius didn't even blink. Damn him.

"I don't know what the hell is going on between you two," he said. "But you've got to end it."

"You're not the boss of me," I pointed out, hand enclosing my wand.

He rolled his eyes – again, role reversal. Eye rolling was_ my_ thing. "You sound like a five-year-old."

I resisted the urge to pout.

"Just – hear me out, ok?" he continued. "Regulus is using you."

I opened my mouth to shout something vulgar at him – if only to make him shut up. The path we were headed was not safe – it was precarious and a far too close to home.

Sirius raised a hand to stop me and, for some reason, I allowed it to. "No, wait. Regulus is my brother, and I haven't been around him in a while, sure – but he didn't change once in all that time I _did _spend with him. He_ uses_ people, Mandy. He uses them and he throws them away when they're no longer of any use to him. Don't forget that he's a_ Slytherin_ –,"

"It's stupid to hate Slytherins, you know," I snapped, not dishonestly. "It's no better than hating Muggle-borns. It's just what they are, so _what_?"

Sirius pursed his lips, looking extremely bitter. Finally, he took a step closer to me and said in a rushed whisper, "I am going to admit something to you, Amanda Johnston. If you say anything to anyone, I _will deny it_!" My eyebrows flew upward. "But the truth is . . . I don't actually _hate _Slytherins. They annoy the hell out of me –," he shuddered dramatically, "but I don't hate them. Though it doesn't change the fact they're Slytherins for a reason. That reason being that they're willing to use any means to get their way – they don't play by the rest of the world's rules."

I wanted to protest, but he made too much sense: I heard the Sorting Hat's song each year, along with everyone else; I, too, had been subject to a Slytherin's wrath. Did that have to mean that Regulus was just as conniving and out for my blood as the rest of them, though?

I decided to play my final card. It also happened to be my strongest.

"What do_ I_ have to offer Regulus?"

-X-

A/N: Heh. Well. So.

Ok, gonna be honest here. I have NO excuse for taking nearly four months to post this chapter. I mean, it started with NaNoWriMo in November (which, by the way, I won! My first ever novel completed), then progressed to my obsession with writing/reading ONLY Kurt/Blaine Glee fics (the cutest pairing EVER and has actually converted me to a slash reader – oh how people change), and then . . . well, let's say that I am simply the epitome of "Procrastinator." I am honestly so, SO ashamed of my poor habits and rather terrified to post this, even though I know most of you will be as forgiving and kind and patient as always.

Words can barely describe how grateful I am to each of you who have stuck by the story thus far and will continue to do so.

Ooh, and thank you for all the response to my question about Regulus! Such varying thoughts on the subject . . . I think **blissedoutvixen** worded my own thoughts best with the statement, "I kinda want to jump him, but I'm afraid he'd slit my throat afterwards." Genius :D

**Next chapter:** December comes, bringing with it patronuses, Slughorn's party, and an event that will either make or break Sirius and Mandy's fragile relationship.

Now, lay it all on me. I swear I can take it;)

Squid


	18. The Confrontation

**Recap:** Even with a war raging outside the walls of Hogwarts, Mandy is finding time to attend a party with Slug Clubber and possible (very, very possible) crush, Regulus, even though Sirius thinks he's using her. Her DADA professor either really likes her or really hates her (there's a fine line). Her father is going to die of Cancer, unless she finds a way to cure it with magic. All Slytherins seem to have it in for her. She accidentally set up her best friend with an annoying bloke when she was supposed to be setting her up with a very slightly less annoying (but much more likable) bloke. And her ex-best mate refuses to accept that "ex-best mates" is all they'll ever be.

All in all, life is good as it's gonna get.

**You're an Idiot, Sirius Black**

**Ch. 16 The Confrontation**

The winds grew colder and, with them, so did the news. Every day, the _Prophet _reported more attacks, more deaths, more uproar – it was all the same: names, faces, and news articles blending into one war. Nothing changed and if it did, it was always for the worst. Eventually, teachers stopped discussing recent events in lessons and some students even canceled their subscriptions to the _Daily Prophet_.

But that wasn't all.

Kids were being pulled out of school. You'd see someone crying one day over breakfast and the next thing you knew . . . they were gone. With a few tudents, though, there wasn't even a warning – they would just disappear, and you'd be left praying that everything worked out for them. Hoping that the possibilities of where they were now, what trials they were undertaking, didn't invade your nightmares.

Naturally, people were frightened. They were hiding, or as much as anyone could hide at a boarding school for magic. But there was always the odd person out, who seemed to take it upon themselves to be bold, brave, stare the darkness in the face and say, "Get the hell out of my life."

One of these rarities happened to be a slightly deranged Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, who enjoyed making me squirm.

"Who can tell me what a Horn of Horror is? Johnston!"

"A – a trumpet like object that, when played, blows out the ear drums, rendering everyone in the vicinity, but the user, permanently deaf."

"Corpse Robes?"

"Erm . . . those are – those are . . . robes that try to – to strangle the wearer on contact!"

"Blade of Mortality?"

I racked my brains desperately. Regulus had said something about a Blade of Mortality, hadn't he? "Er . . . it . . . um. Oh! It sucks the life out of a person, when stabbed."

"And what is the difference between a Dementor's kiss and being stabbed by the Blade?"

"With the Blade, you just die. Your soul remains intact."

Professor Meadowes smirked and, with nothing but a curt, "You've been paying attention," she moved on to her next victim.

As soon as her eyes directed themselves elsewhere, I slumped against my desk in exhaustion. "That woman hates me," I mumbled into the worn oak surface. "Hates. Me."

I felt Lily carefully playing with curls in my ponytail, bouncing them, braiding them together, like we were a couple of preteens stuck with a boring substitute teacher in maths class. The sensation of her soft fingertips skating across the back of my neck was comforting, though, in a sense – like friendship, like love, like home.

"I think she likes you," she murmured. "And one too many curses to the head permanently damaged her ability to show affection like a civilized human being."

I cracked a small smile at that, and lifted my head. "I missed this," I whispered. "Missed you. I'll never take these little moments for granted again."

Lily smiled softly, too, but she shook her head. "Well, don't get too caught up in cherishing them. Part of the fun is taking them for granted every once in a while."

I quirked an eyebrow and we both burst into a fit of hushed giggles.

"Oi!" Something poked me in the back and I turned to see Alice mock-glaring at me, from her place crammed between Marlene and Mary. "Well, don't keep it a secret!" she hissed. "What's so funny?"

Lily and I exchanged glances, full of questions and answers and everything in between. "Nothing," we said in unison. "Everything." Of course, this just made us laugh harder.

Mary giggled, Alice huffed affectionately, and even Mar, who seemed to find smiling more and more beneath her these days, couldn't help the slight twisting of her lips, the warmth brimming her gaze.

The moment was small and it was meaningless in a time when no one could afford small, meaningless moments. But maybe that was why it meant the most of all.

-X-

One day, as the year drew to a close, Professor Meadowes stormed into class, announcing a last minute change in the lesson plan.

"Professor Flitwick, the nasty little bugger – er, don't tell him I said that –," she hastily amended. "Well, he has expressed his desire to get his seventh years started on charming Patronuses to deliver messages. And then he found out that you haven't even been taught how to make a Patronus yet. The little dwarf had the_ nerve_ to insult my height! Merlin." She rolled her eyes exaggeratedly, but I could tell she was enjoying putting on a show for us.

"So, now, I have to teach you how all how to conjure a Patronus in the next couple of weeks. Lovely."

At this news, we all sat a little straighter, eyes glowed a little brighter. We knew what a Patronus was – a magical guardian that protected against Dementors, among other dark creatures and objects – and that it was extremely difficult to create. In fact, rumor had it that on occasion, even Professor Dumbledore still had trouble conjuring a Patronus. Each one of us wanted to see if we had what it took.

"Now, a Patronus," Meadowes began, picking up her usual pacing routine around the room, "requires some very tricky magic, yes. But the most vital point in its conjuring is happiness. You need a thought, a memory, something that makes you extremely happy, makes you want to sing in the rain, and scream from the rooftops. Don't give me that smirk, Rosier – or I'll put you up against a Dementor intent on sucking out your soul and then you'll see how easy it is to be happy."

I glanced over my shoulder at Rosier; his smile was long gone.

"The incantation is simple. Repeat after me: _Expecto Patronum_."

"_Expecto Patronum_," we obeyed.

She demonstrated the proper wand movement – some sort of complicated twist – and we practiced it until each and every one of us had it memorized like the back of our hands. By the time it came for us to actually put two and two together, we were nearly jumping out of our seats in anticipation.

"Don't be discouraged if you don't get it right this lesson," she said. "It's a _very_ tricky spell. Now, think of your happy thought. Picture it clearly in your mind. Take your time."

I closed my eyes, wracking my brains for a memory that gave me joy like no other. There was the pungent scent of my mother's homemade biscuits . . . the dog licking my face in the morning . . . laughing with my friends, setting things right with Lily, playing with my little brother at the park . . .

My father, cradling me in his strong arms on Christmas Eve, crooning in his deep, throaty voice the lyrics to _Silent Night_. If that wasn't the epitome of happiness, of love and joy and contentment, I didn't know what was.

"One . . ." Meadowes counted softly.

I pictured it, every detail: the warmth of his chest, fading woodsy cologne in the crook of his neck, dry lips just barely brushing my ear: _"Silent night . . . Holy night . . ." _

"Two . . ."

A sort of hollowness filled me, and tears sprung to my eyes. That man, who cared for me, held me, made me feel safe and secure, was now ill at home, being cared for himself. Helpless as a small child.

"Three."

"_Expecto Patronum_," I whispered, eye flying open, resting on the tip of my wand, waiting.

Nothing happened.

My shoulders slumped.

Groans filled the classroom, tearing reluctantly from each student's throat – well, except for James'. In fact, he was grinning from ear to ear as he watched, awed, the silver mist emitting from his wand, fogging his glasses.

"Very good, Potter!" Meadowes praised, beaming. "That, class, is a non-corporeal Patronus – it is not as effective as a fully formed one, but more than excellent for a beginner. Really, really well done, James."

At my side, Lily muttered, "Just what he needs. A bigger head."

I nudged her to be quiet, but chuckled slightly all the same.

Meadowes instructed us to try again and I forced myself to focus even harder on my memory, the happiness it should have ballooned me with. But I still couldn't fill the emptiness inside me. I couldn't shake the sadness that came along with his sickness, the pain losing him was causing.

Once again, James was the only one to conjure anything resembling a Patronus.

"Alright, don't get discouraged!" Meadowes cried, tipping up the downcast chin of a Ravenclaw. "Most witches and wizards can't manage this charm until they're long done with schooling. Some never quite grasp it. Let's try once more."

I clenched my eyes shut tightly. Maybe I needed a new memory. Maybe this one, for whatever reason, wasn't happy enough.

Baking with my mother.

"One."

My mad Aunt Jeannine's sporadic visits.

"Two."

When Sirius told me I was a witch.

"Three."

_Sirius . . ._

Go.

I didn't even bother saying the incantation, allowing my eyes to fall open. Why was it so difficult to pick a bloody memory? Why did none of my honestly happy ones seem good enough?

Over my confusion, I heard someone holler and turned my head to the noise: James was standing, hazel eyes brighter than I'd ever seen them, and by his side stood a magnificent silver stag, proud, strong. Entranced by the spectacular creature, I straightened.

The stag loped leisurely around the room, hooves entirely soundless. It cantered closer to me, cautiously; I held my breath. But when it reached my desk, it paid me no mind; rather, its luminous eyes, like mini moons, stared intently into Lily's. She raised her hand, reached out shaking fingers – but just before her fingertips could graze its forehead, it disappeared in a shower of silver mist.

Lily blew out a huff of air and dropped her hand, dejected looking, but a bit hopeful too.

Professor Meadowes was the first to break the quiet. "Marvelous, Potter," she said. "Simply marvelous."

-X-

_The Reductor Curse, originating from the English verb "reduce," meaning "to bring down or destroy," is a spell of average skill-level that is used to blast solid objects into pieces. Accompanied with the incantation of "_Reducto_," the wand movement necessary to perform the spell combines a simple flick of the wrist with a slightly more complicated jerk upward . . ._

I jotted down the note in my journal, allowing my quill to linger over the hastily dotted period. A Reductor Curse. Why had I never thought of this before? If there was a way to channel the spell into the human body with blowing it to bits, cancerous cells could be destroyed entirely upon impact . . . It was genius!

Now, if only it was possible . . .

Shuffled footsteps. I glanced up, smiling slightly at the sight of Reg plopping down across from me.

"You look focused," he remarked, pulling some notes from his bag.

"Oh, I just had an idea." I waved his comment away, pushing aside my journal and leaning tiredly against a tall stack of books. I would further contemplate this theory later. "So, how's your day been thus far?"

He sighed dramatically, yet somehow coolly, as only a Black could. "Not very well, to be honest. Emmeline Vance wants to give us another go."

My stomach muscles clenched. Must have been those exercises I did last week. Granted, I grew bored and ended up quitting after about two minutes, but still. Those two minutes were _vigorous_.

"Oh?" I carefully plucked at a stray thread in the carpet. "What did you tell her?"

"I told her I only ever liked her for her shiny hair and that she made my other ex-girlfriend beat me up." His voice dropped an octave. Just one. "And that I fancy someone else. Quite a bit."

I gulped.

"Well . . . at least you let her down easy," I tried to joke, forcing an awkward laugh. Why was my face so damn hot all of a sudden? "My day hasn't gone brilliantly either, as a matter of fact. We're learning Patronuses. James was the only one to conjure one. And – I know it was only the first lesson, but . . ." I sighed, long and hard.

Soft fingers closed around mine. I stared at the tanned skin, a stark contrast against my pale. He was _so_ different from Sirius, in every aspect; Sirius, who was nearly as fair skinned as me. Sirius, whose fingers were rough, hardened and calloused and wide from lugging around a beater's bat.

This – smooth finger pads, narrow hands, dark skin, expressive eyes – was different. New. But I could get used to it.

"Don't you worry your pretty little head," he said. "Patronuses are some of the most difficult magic. In any case, I never really saw the point in them."

I looked up, intrigued. "What about Dementors? I heard they're floating around rampant these days."

Lazily, Regulus brushed the notion away with a wave of his hand. Too lazily. Like he didn't even see a reason to discuss this issue at all. "Why would you care about_ Dementors_, of all things?"

"Um . . . because they will take away all your happiness and suck out your soul?"

His eyes were intense. Glowing in the filtered sunlight, framed by the dust motes.

"Not if you're on their side."

The way he said it sent goose pimples running for safety down my spine, and left my mind reeling with questions: what side were the Dementors on?

What side was_ he_ on?

Regulus continued on as if nothing just happened. His eyes lightened. Smile grew cheerier. Voice . . . normal. "So, I was wondering what dress robes you were planning on wearing to Slughorn's gathering? My mother says we should color coordinate. I, personally, don't see a reason too, but if it makes us seem more distinguished . . ."

I allowed myself a moment to adjust to the sudden switch of demeanor. Cleared my throat. "We need to wear dress robes?"

"Well, obviously. What were you going to wear?"

"Er . . . my regular robes?" Regulus' expression would have made Merlin himself feel stupid. "Don't look at me like that! We do wear uniforms here, you know!"

Regulus simply shook his head. My knowledge, or lack thereof, of formal events must have been a lost cause, too tragic for his humongous, cultured mind to hope to comprehend. "Fine," he sighed. "Don't worry about it. I'll take care of it."

"No! I couldn't ask you to –,"

"Mandy," he laughed, and he clutched my hand in his. Warmth spread from my fingertips, coursed throughout my bloodstream. "I'll _take care of it_."

I blinked. And, just barely, my lips quirked upward. "Thank you."

"My pleasure," he smiled.

-X-

Days passed and Patronuses continued to be a complete hassle. I wasn't expecting their conjuring to become easy, per se . . . simply _possible_.

But they weren't.

Impossible barely began to define their difficulty.

Each class began with my picking a memory. A memory with my parents. My brother. My godforsaken _dog_. Hoping that it would be strong enough, that it would hold enough power – that it would give_ me_ power.

And yet, it never did.

I wasn't a sad person, not really. Especially not now. I had all my mates. I had the Marauders. I had Regulus and my family and good marks in school. Sure, my personality was a bit more melancholy than, say, _James' _but whose wasn't? My life was chalk full of happy memories. So many happy memories.

So why did they mean so little?

-X-

I sat in the Common Room, the rapidly fading sunset casting a light glow over the lingering students. A couple of Second Years murmured to each other over a game of exploding snap; a girl in the corner fed her tawny owl what looked suspiciously like mouse legs; and filling the room was a steady chorus of quills scratching over homework assignments.

Hand cramping slightly, I set my own quill down to stretch my fingers and relax my mind. I absently rolled my wand across the table, catching it before it could fall to the carpet. My fingers immediately found their rightful placement against the cherrywood.

I glanced around the room to make sure was everyone was involved in their own projects; they were.

"_Expecto Patronum_," I whispered. I knew nothing would happen, of course, since I didn't even bother thinking up a memory this time. Still, the wand's failure to react disappointed me.

"Damn you," I told my wand, the spell, myself, with no real vehemence behind the words. "Damn you to bloody hell."

"Harsh," Sirius said, perching on the table in front of me.

"_Go_ away. _Not _in the mood."

"Aren't you eloquent." He eyed my slumped shoulders, taut mouth, and sighed. "I saw your attempt at the Patronus charm. If you could even call it that."

My cheeks flamed, knowing someone noticed. "Shut it," I snapped. "Just because _you_ got it in the second lesson . . ."

I crossed my arms against the sudden tightness in my chest.

"Hey," he said, much gentler. His fingers caught my chin, pushing it up, nearly forcing me to meet his eyes (but not entirely; he couldn't _force_ me to do anything). "I was just joshing. It's a difficult spell, I know that. Take your time."

I swallowed thickly, unaware of when a lump lodged itself in my throat; unaware of why it felt so unyielding. Totally unaware of when his eyes transitioned from their usual murky to clear, kind, and maybe a little trustworthy.

"I can't," I simply stated.

"What are you on about?"

"I can't do the charm."

"Of course you can. Just give it a little –,"

"No!" I bit out. In answer to his mildly surprised expression, I leaned forward and hissed, "I physically _can't_ perform that charm, ok?" I could see that he wanted to deny it, tell me that if a charm existed it could be performed – exactly what I had tried to tell myself. But I'd started this rant and, so help me, I wasn't about to stop! "Charms, even tricky ones, have always been fairly easy for me, or at least _doable_ – but this one, I can't –,"

"We've only had four or five lessons, Amanda. And the wand work is really complicated, especially if you're as klutzy as you tend to be –,"

"I can't think of a memory," I blurted.

Sirius froze, momentarily blindsided. I pulled back, only slightly, because I hadn't meant to say that. I should have allowed him to think that the physical aspect was what troubled me; after all, no matter how often I complained, having weak muscles was far preferred to having a weak mind.

"I can't think of a memory," I repeated, slowly, as if that would make it easier to take the words back, should I feel so inclined. "I don't know why . . . I have plenty of happy memories. But I just can't make myself _feel_ happy about them."

And, dammit, now my eyes were stinging.

Screw it all.

I massaged my eyes with the heels of my hands, praying Sirius overlooked their glassiness. Embarrassment consumed me, prickling at my skin like a wool blanket.

"I can't. And I hate it," I whispered brokenly. A sole tear broke free from the ocean in my eyes and streamed down my nose, lips, chin. I could almost taste the saltiness left in its wake.

Sirius' fingers gripped my upper arm – and then, he was pulling me forward and my head was resting on his shoulder and his arms were so tight around me; it was everything I tried to barricade myself against this past year, everything I told myself I didn't want from him, everything that was so, so wrong – but, at the same time, everything that wasn't.

I didn't remove my hands from their defensive position against my eyes, and I most certainly did not lean into him – but I didn't bother pulling away either.

"It's ok," he whispered. "You're ok, I promise."

"It's not," I said. "It's so _not_. What's wrong with me? Why is it so hard?"

"Give yourself a break, Mandy. People can go their whole lives without accomplishing this spell. Because to be happy . . . I reckon it's one of the hardest choices a person can make."

"That makes no sense."

"But doesn't it?"

I fell silent, allowing his warm breath to caress the shell of my ear.

"I can help you," he said. "If you'd like. If it means that much to you."

My first instinct was to deny that I needed his help at all. But I was sitting in his arms, trying and failing to reign in tears, spewing my heartbrokenness over the fact that I was having trouble with a charm. What more did I have to lose? My pride?

_Hate to break it you, _my subconscious chimed, _but you lost your pride a long time ago._

"If you wouldn't mind," I said. "I'd appreciate that."

He lowered me off of him and pried my hands from my face, as gently as possible. He busied himself with examining each finger as he loosened its steel hold on my skin. I was grateful for the opportunity to blink away the remainder of saltwater that haphazardly pooled against my eyelids.

Sirius took my wand and pushed it into my hand, before pulling out his own. Fear began to trickle through my defenses: "Sirius . . . I don't know if I can . . ."

"Hey, there'll be none of that," he playfully admonished. His eyes dropped to the dark wood he turned over and over in his hands. "You know, the first time I conjured a Patronus, I didn't even pick a memory."

My eyebrows furrowed. "Then how did you . . .?"

"A Patronus doesn't happen because of a memory," he explained. "It happens because of happiness. And if memories make you sad . . . well, you just have to find another way to be happy."

I shook my head, willing him to hear the unasked question; if memories didn't make me happy then what possibly could?

"I know this is a big thing to ask of you. I know it's tricky to just let everything go. But you must."

His eyes captured mine. I knew then that he had been intentionally allowing me to gather my bearings because if he truly wanted me to look at him, my will meant next to nothing.

"In this moment, there's no reason to be sad," he told me, in this matter-of-fact way that made me feel silly for crying in the first place. "There's no past, no future. No Black, no Johnston. No Muggle-born or Pure Blood."

In spite of the tenderness of this moment, I still felt my eyes nearly roll, of their own accord. I restrained the urge, though. "Life isn't that simple, Sirius," I reminded.

To my surprise, Sirius snorted; apparently, he didn't have the same concerns about maintaining delicacy as I. "I'm not talking about life, now, am I?" he asked, somewhat caustically. I shrunk back and his voice softened."Just now. Just us. Two kids who really care about each other."

My heart beating in my ears. His breathing, slow and deep and even. The only sounds I could hear.

Two kids who really care about each other.

For the first time in a very long time, I could honestly believe that's all we were.

I raised my wand and, in a voice that was a mere whisper of breath, said, "_Expecto Patronum_."

Stark silver, nearly blinding in its intensity, beamed from my wand, but I couldn't look away. It wasn't light so much as . . . mist, wind, the air itself in a more concentrated form – and it was beautiful. My heart seemed to stop for two seconds; and then it was making up for lost time, racing faster than ever.

The few students left in the Common Room were watching in awe, most never having seen anything like it. I was, unashamedly, one of them.

Eventually, the mist evaporated, leaving the world looking strangely dim in its wake. Still dazed, kids went back to their homework. A couple applauded.

I refused to fight the huge grin overtaking my face.

"A non-corporeal Patronus," Sirius quoted Professor Meadowes. "More than excellent for a beginner."

I giggled and repeated the incantation; again, silver mist of an unfathomable shape shot into the Common Room. A few kids glanced at me, but none really paid attention. I didn't mind, even as pride swelled within me.

No, the Patronus wasn't what it could be.

From the corner of my eye, I looked at Sirius, who was beaming a smile even brighter than the mist somehow.

But it was a start.

-X-

Later that night, I walked into my dormitory to see a prettily wrapped package lying on my made bed. Eyebrow arching, I took the package (Christmas present?) into my hands, finger carefully slipping into the tissue paper and gently tearing it open.

A bundle of fabric fell into my hands. I flapped it out, so I could fully examine whatever I had been given – and gasped.

Normally, I wasn't all that impressed by clothes. But the dress robes I held in my hands were, pardon the pun, _magic_: an eye-catching magenta in color, of velvet fabric that I could practically _feel_ the galleons rolling off of, and a cut that I instinctively knew would flatter any body type.

Tearing my eyes from the robes, I noticed a piece of parchment that had fallen to the floor. I bent to pick it up and read:

_Mandy –_

_I know it's a few days early for Christmas, but who the hell really cares anyway? I promised you dress robes, and therefore, I am going to give you dress robes._

_These are enchanted so that one size not only fits all, but looks rather dashing on all, too. Not that you need any help in that department, of course . . . _

_Plus, the color will go rather nicely with my own robes._

_And don't you even dare worry about the money! I really have too much._

_I'm a bit busy now so I might not see you before the party (which is in TWO DAYS – holy hippogriffs, can you believe the new year is so close? Where did '77 go?). Meet me by the library at six on Wednesday. If that's not convenient for you, send me an owl._

_I look forward to seeing you._

_Reg_

I waited for the usual warm, slippery feelings to assault my gut, as they had recently taken to doing whenever Regulus complimented me, or talked to me, or was plain _near_ me. But they didn't.

Instead, all I felt was confusion.

And I had the oddest feeling that a certain brother of Regulus' was the cause.

-X-

True to his word, I did not see Regulus at all on Tuesday, or most of Wednesday. I would have liked to discuss in greater detail the going-ons of Slughorn's party, as I had never been to one before, but the girls were eager to fill me in.

"Basically," said Alice, who had attended parties with Frank; her boyfriend was one of the rare few who earned his way into the Slughorn's good graces with his smarts and courage, rather than connections, "the whole party simply consists of a lot of kissing up to Sluggy. Follow Lily's lead. You'll know what to do."

"That wasn't funny!" came Lily's voice, muffled from behind the bathroom door.

"You're right, Lils, I'm sorry!" said Alice. She turned back to me and whispered, "Yes, it was."

I cracked a grin, as I scrutinized my dressing gown clad self in the floor-length mirror. Alice had deemed herself fit to give me a bit of a makeover. Honestly, I was more than a little surprised when she pulled out a handy case of magical makeup from a kit on her bedside table, and I voiced this.

"I'm not ashamed of my masculinity, Amanda," she had told me. "Which means I shouldn't be ashamed of my femininity either." She glanced around shiftily, before leaning closer to my ear and whispering, "Plus, when I was little, I always liked to play with my mother's makeup to try and make myself look as much like an Inferius as possible."

That didn't exactly reassure me.

However, I was pleasantly surprised thus far.

Alice had spritzed my hair with some cleansing solution to make it look particularly shiny (a trait I knew Regulus admired in a girl, after his fling with Emmeline Vance), and massaged into it a leave-in conditioner that loosened my curls just enough to be manageable. She spun her wand and my hair floated on its own into a half-up, half-down style that I felt was rather fitting: it was new, but didn't leave me completely vulnerable.

"Spread this on your lips," she ordered, handing me a small tube full of a sheer gel. "Your lips are pretty pink as they are, so this will just add a bit of shine to them. Plus, the shine won't smear, or dull for a full week, unless you explicitly want it to. Brilliant, isn't it?"

Before obeying, I couldn't help a laugh. "Who are you and what have you done with Alice Elliot?" I snarked, smirking against the finger that was coating my lips with gloss.

"I'll have none of that," Alice snapped, but she was grinning, too. "Unless you want me to conveniently remember that I know more about making others presentable for an Inferi party, rather than a Slug Club one . . ."

"Have you _been_ to an Inferi party?"

Alice groaned, good-naturedly.

She finished working on my face with a dash of mascara that was waterproof, fireproof, windproof, lightning-proof, and pigeon-dung proof to my eyelashes, and a hint of rouge to my cheeks.

"Voila!" she said at last, standing back to allow me to admire her handiwork. And admire, I did.

I'm not going to say it was this miraculous transformation where I was completely unrecognizable, or suddenly the most beautiful creature to grace the Earth . . . because, quite frankly, I wasn't. The skin on my forehead was still washed out; my lips, though pink and glossy, were still thin; I was just me with a little more sparkle, a hint more shine.

It felt bloody fantastic.

"Damn," Alice said, her mirror-eyes wide and bright over my shoulder. "I am _good_."

Smiling, I moved to my bed where my dress robes were smoothed across the comforter; I slid the robes over my plain white smock, careful not to disturb my hair, and slipped on a pair of strappy low heels.

"Now," I said, running my hands over nonexistent wrinkles in the lush fabric, "how do I look?"

In answer, Alice beamed and Mary began clicking wildly at her camera. Marlene didn't even glance up from her homework; I tried not to feel too hurt.

The lime light wasn't mine for long, however, because just then, Lily strutted from the bathroom and all attention was hers and hers alone.

She wore a set of twinkling cobalt blue robes that made the alabaster of her neck positively glow in the soft light of the dormitory; shimmery silver-blue eye shadow offset entrancing green orbs; and her hair was styled into a high bun, with long bangs framing her face.

She blinked demurely, like she knew exactly how great she looked and was going to work it for the rest of the night.

Alice released a low whistle. "I am having really inappropriate thoughts about you all of a sudden."

Lily giggled – and she was our friend again, not some sculpture crafted by the ancient Greeks.

"Honestly, Lils, wow," I said. "I have half a mind to ditch Regulus and beg you to be my date for the night."

"Sexiest couple _ever_!" Alice cried, falling back onto her bed with a dull _thump_.

"Oh please, you flatter me," I laughed. I cast one last searching look at the mirror, before turning to Lily with a bright smile. "Ready to go, then?" She nodded and we left, bidding the room our goodbyes.

"Marlene's behavior is driving me mad," I said, on our way down the staircase. "She barely spoke to me at all! What if I died? What if I tripped down these stairs right now, hit my head, and_ bled_ to death? She'd have to suffer the rest of her life knowing that she didn't even say goodbye to me!"

"She's been like that for a while now, we told you. Don't take it personally."

"I don't, not really," I sighed. As we walked through the Common Room, several students' eyes followed our trek to the portrait hole, though I had a feeling Lily was more so the object of their fixations. "I'm just worried. For the past seven years, she has had every bloke in this school wrapped around her finger, she's _known_ she does and she's enjoyed it, and now she doesn't even want a date for Slughorn's party?"

Lily shrugged. "Maybe people change."

I cast a sidelong glance, my teeth furiously working at the inside of my lip. "Speaking of people changing . . ." I tired slowly, "have you noticed that James is getting into less trouble?"

With one withering glare, Lily's eyes told me we so _weren't_ having this conversation now.

"Ok, ok," I said, picking up speed. "Point taken."

We walked to the background noise of our shoes clicking on marble for a few minutes longer, until we were forced to split ways; I was meeting Regulus by the library and Casey Davies awaited Lily nearer to the dungeons.

The rest of the familiar journey was made feeling strangely vulnerable, walking alone through the dimly lit corridors, all dressed up. Fighting a brief chill, I wrapped my arms around my sides.

I was in the corridor that turned into the library's entrance when I heard my name.

" . . . Johnston chaos is a complete waste of time. You either need to hurry yourself, or give up all together. We only wait so long."

I stalled, debating. The voice was unfamiliar, but the one that soon joined it was entirely _too _familiar.

"I don't believe I asked your opinion on the matter, Lucius," said Regulus, words short. "In fact, I don't believe _he_ asked your opinion either."

I crept closer. Held my breath.

"Don't even pretend you know what goes on in his mind, boy. You don't know a thing."

"And neither do you, apparently."

The voices fell abruptly silent and nervousness for Regulus' wellbeing racked me. I sucked in a lungful of air and plastered on a smile that was much too fake.

I rounded the corner.

Regulus was glaring up at a tall, blonde stranger, whose aristocratic features were fine and whose steely eyes were cold.

"Hello, Reg! Oh . . . hello," I tittered as if I hadn't just overheard a sinister sounding conversation that possibly involved me. I quirked a brow in Reg's direction. "And who is this?"

I had to grant it to them – their hostility automatically washed away and by their faintly bored expressions, I might have interrupted a conversation about the weather.

"Oh, hello, Mandy," Regulus smiled. "This is Lucius Malfoy, my cousin Narcissa's husband. Lucius, this is my date for the night, Amanda Johnston. Lucius here is fairly high up in the Ministry and was invited today by Slughorn. He was just leaving, _wasn't he_?"

Lucius didn't even blink. "Yes, I'm afraid I must be getting back to the party, and to Narcissa. It is quite rude to keep a lady waiting after all." His eyes trailed me from head to toe in a single, languid sweep. Gaze returning to mine, a slight sneer pulling his upper lip, the results of whatever test he was placing me under were clear as crystal in his eyes: failure, and nothing but. "Pleasure to meet you."

With a disdainful flick of his long white-gold locks, he left us.

"He seems . . . nice," I said, after several agonizing moments of quiet.

"He is anything but," Regulus scoffed. Nervously shifting, I waited until his eyes seemed to refocus on me, on the present. He smiled. "You look lovely."

"As do you," I returned. And it was the truth. He wore deep olive robes that did indeed offset the vibrancy of my own rather nicely. Raven hair was slicked back as usual, but in a style that made the hollows of his cheeks especially prominent. "Are we ready to go then?"

"It would be an honor to escort you to the party," he said, holding out his arm.

I hesitated a second, a nanosecond, when my mind flashed back to the conversation I had heard between Regulus and Lucius Malfoy. Sirius' words of, _"He uses people,"_ echoing in my ears.

I shoved them away and took his arm.

-X-

The party was in full swing by the time Regulus and I arrived, slipping into the crowded, magically enlarged office with ease. A jaunty tune floated through the air, intermingling with the warm buzz of idle chitchat. Immediately, a tray of drinks drifted over to us; Regulus helped himself to two cocktail glasses of butterbeer and handed one to me.

"Oho, Mr. Black!"

Slughorn was ambling over, clearly more than a little tipsy as he swayed on his feet. He clapped a hand to Regulus' shoulder – Regulus nearly toppled over – before he trained his eyes on me.

"Amelia, don't you look simply dazzling tonight!" he cried.

"Her name is Amanda," offered Regulus.

"Yes, yes, of course it is." He waved the minor detail aside. Then he literally waved_ me_ aside, elbowing himself in between my date and I. "Aurelia, be a dear and fetch me another drink, would you?"

"Er, Professor," Regulus tried, "don't you reckon you may have had enough drinks –?"

"Nonsense, m'boy, nonsense! I am perfectly well off! Besides, it is the _holidays_. And even pick-me-ups deserve a little teacher now and then!"

Snickering at how "well off" (on alcohol . . .) he was, I made my way to the refreshment table, grinning when I noticed Lily and Casey Davies hovered near it. Casey was as pristinely put together as usual, in black robes with blue stitching that was the exact shade of Lily's outfit.

"Mandy, you made it!" Lily beamed. "I was beginning to worry."

"Nothing could keep me away," I teased with a wink. "Now stop talking to me, I need to acquire an alcoholic beverage of sorts and your devilish good looks are distracting."

Lily giggled shrilly. I didn't miss the quick glance she shot to Casey, who wasn't even paying attention, and the subsequent slump of her shoulders.

Casey suddenly straightened. "Oh, is that the head of magical law enforcement?" he asked. He turned to us, cerulean eyes bright with excitement. "Lils, do you mind if I go share a word with him? I'm sorry to leave like this, but I simply cannot afford to pass up such an opportunity – summer internships and all –,"

"Oh, no, please!" Lily said. "Go, talk to him, this really is an invaluable chance –,"

Casey swooped in to kiss her cheek. "Thank you, love, I knew you'd understand. I'll be right back."

He approached a portly, bespectacled man in a pinstriped suit.

I quirked an eyebrow, as I poured a bottle of gin into a tall glass. "Trouble in paradise?" I asked, attempting to keep my tone disinterested.

Lily's eyes snapped from Casey's retreating back to me. "What? No, of course not! Casey is a very career driven man, it's admirable –," She caught my eyebrow creeping higher and higher. Sighed in defeat. "I don't know," she amended. "He's been the perfect gentleman, of course, kissing my hand and serving me drinks, telling me I looked lovely. But that's . . . that's it! I thought I looked so beautiful – and, dare I say, _sexy_ –," I pushed down a mad wave of the giggles at _that word_ leaving Lily's ever-so-proper mouth (_Focus, Amanda!_). "I just don't understand. Even you and Alice said that I was attractive. And, sure, I always figured Alice would experiment at least once in her life, but I'm fairly certain you prefer men, don't you?"

"Last time I checked."

"Then what's _wrong_ with me?" she burst. "Why is everything else in this damn room so bloody fascinating?"

I gave a hesitant shrug. "Maybe he really is just a very career driven?"

Lily downcast her eyes. My heart broke for her. "I really, _really _like him," she murmured. "I have for so long. He's sweet and gentlemanly and bright, but . . . he doesn't make me feel . . . _desirable_. Is it so wrong for a girl to want that?"

I remembered the shivers that prickled down my spine when Regulus sometimes looked at me a certain way, when we were alone in the library.

"Not at all," I said.

She blew a long breath of air out, looking so dejected, so terribly _sad_ – but only for an instant. Then she was stiffening her shoulders again and composing her features into a practiced smile. She said, "You should get that drink back to Professor Slughorn. He won't like to be kept waiting." Our talk might not have happened.

I hated how she did that. I hated how _everyone_ did that. Including myself.

Why did we feel forced to go through life wearing a mask?

I looked to where Slughorn and Regulus were engrossed in conversation. Well, _Slughorn_ was engrossed in conversation. Regulus was entirely focused on the tall, attractive blonde couple in the corner: Lucius Malfoy and a young woman I vaguely recognized as Narcissa Black, from when she went to school with me.

Why could we never take things at face value?

I dismissed myself from Lily without another word.

"Here, Professor," I said, handing Slughorn the gin.

"Thank you, dear, thank you very much!" he praised, throwing his head back and downing the drink. It looked as though he wouldn't be resurfacing for quite some time.

"Do you mind if we step out?" I whispered to Regulus. "I'm feeling rather ill all of a sudden."

He glanced quickly at the Malfoys once more. "Of course," he said. He grabbed my hand and led me from the room, despite my protests, saying, "It was getting stuffy in there, anyways."

We walked, hand in hand, to a deserted alcove by a window that showcased the night sky, made even darker by gray clouds. Nestling inside it, I found I didn't much mind the close proximity, the way our shoulders were pressed together, the heady scent of his expensive cologne.

In fact, I welcomed it.

"We can go back in when, or if, you feel better," he said, quietly as to not disturb the peace of the abandoned hallway. "But for now . . . this is just fine."

Slowly, I rested my head on his slim shoulder. At the stiffening of his body, I wondered if I had a crossed a line – but then his arm was encompassing my waist, drawing me even closer.

We talked. We talked and talked and_ talked_ for what felt like hours. Sometimes, we would bask in the silence, marveling at the chorus of our heartbeats drumming together. But, mostly, we talked.

About nothing. About everything.

Was there honestly that much difference between the two?

Around the time that I felt my eyes beginning to droop, Regulus whispered, "It's getting late. I should take you back."

I nodded drowsily and allowed him to lead me back to Gryffindor Tower.

We reached the portrait of the Fat Lady all too quickly. After shuffled feet, nervous laughing, and stolen glances, it became quite apparent that we were stalling the inevitable. I decided to take charge.

I know. You're shocked.

"Listen, Reg," I murmured, ignoring the blush I knew was much too evident on my cheekbones. "I know we didn't actually spend much time at the party . . . sorry about that, by the way . . . But I, erm, had quite a bit of fun tonight."

Regulus cracked a small smile. "Don't worry about it," he said. "I actually quite enjoyed not spending time in that room. Being outside, with you, was far less . . . distracting."

His eyes flickered, just a bit, and I wondered if he was remembering Lucius Malfoy.

"Well . . . I'm glad then," I said.

He nodded. Neither of us moved.

"Mandy . . ." he started slowly. There was something in his eyes. Something I couldn't for the life of me place, but something that had my legs locking and shoulders stiffening, as if any loose muscle would cause me to collapse to the ground in a mess of goo. "Could I . . . I mean, would it be alright if I kissed –?"

"Yes," I interrupted; the only thought in my head being, _Yes, yes, oh my god, please, yes._

He nodded once. Gently cupped my cheek with his soft hand. Leant closer. I could see the bob of his slight Adam's apple, hear the wind he sucked up his nose, feel his cool, minty breath fanning across my eyelids, my neck, my . . . my . . .

Holy hippogriffs, my _lips_.

I'm not certain if all those trashy romance novels that I've – never – read were truthful when they said that when you meet the right person, fireworks explode, and wedding bells ring, and angels sing. If so, then Regulus definitely wasn't right for me, seeing as there were no lights, no chimes, no godly choruses. Only soft lips pressing ever so gently against mine in a gesture that should have been awkward . . . but wasn't. It felt pleasant and warm, which was odd, seeing as Regulus' lips were so cold. It made my stomach do somersaults and my cheeks flare hotter than they already had and _ohmygod, remember to breathe_ . . .

"Excuse me, but public displays of affection are strictly prohibited after curfew and – _Amanda_?"

I jerked away from Regulus, whole body hot from embarrassment and – er – other things. To his credit, Regulus hardly seemed phased as he turned to direct a sarcastic grin at the newcomers.

"Hello, Evans, Davies, might I help you?" he asked. Lily looked shocked, like the thought of me actually kissing someone was absolutely astonishing, whereas Casey was . . . well, if I chose to believe my eyes, Casey was ducking his head and _blushing_. It was a known fact amongst students of Hogwarts that Casey Davies' skin did not have the ability to color any shade except porcelain white.

Neither Regulus, nor Lily, seemed to notice this odd development however, too caught up in each other.

"I – you – out after curfew!" blurted Lily. A sound bubbled from her lips unprecedented – it was a cross between a girlish giggle and a reprimanding scoff.

"Yes, well, so are _you_," Regulus reminded.

"That's different! We were at Slughorn's party, we had permission."

"We were at the party, too."

"You left early, I saw you! All after curfew privileges were thus revoked."

"Regulus," I said. "It's fine, honestly. Why don't you get back to Slytherin, before you get in more trouble? I'll see you tomorrow."

He sniffed disdainfully, glaring at Lily and winking at me. He flounced away.

My eyes weren't focused on his departing backside, though; rather, they were trained on _Casey's_ eyes focusing on it.

Casey suddenly shook himself and looked up; our eyes locked. And in his crystalline blue orbs, I saw something I never expected to see, something I never wanted to see, because it would be so easy to hate him, to sabotage him for making James hate _me_, if I didn't: fear.

And shame.

And more than a little bit of pleading.

Well, things were suddenly a lot more complicated, weren't they?

-X-

The final Defense Against the Dark Arts class of the year, and only two of our number had managed fully corporeal Patronuses: James and Sirius. Lily, Alice, and I, along with a handful of the Ravenclaws and Hupplepuffs, could produce non-corporeal Patronuses. No Slytherin had managed even a wisp of mist yet.

Apparently, happiness truly was one of the hardest decisions you could make.

Professor Meadowes was a few minutes late to class, so we were left to our own devices. I noticed Peter and Remus had taken up a game of chess in the corner. James and Sirius watched their Patronuses, a stag and dog respectively, parade around the room with expressions reminiscent of proud parents. Groups of girls giggled over the latest Witch Weekly issue.

Beside me, Lily was furiously scribbling in her notebook. I peeked over her shoulder and saw numerous sketches of hearts with the initials "CD" plus "LE" etched inside. My heart clenched.

I couldn't allow her to continue this . . . this _sham_ of a relationship. She deserved more.

But what was I supposed to say? "I have a stinking suspicion that your perfect prefect boyfriend is more attracted to _my_ maybe-boyfriend than he is to you?"

Yes, that would blow over nicely for all parties involved, I'm sure.

Besides, for some reason, it felt like a betrayal on my part. Which made no sense, since I barely even _knew_ Casey – only enough to feel slight disdain for his perfection.

But then again, if I just _happened_ to let it slip around James that Lily's boyfriend might chase for the other team . . . well, it granted me a one-way ticket into his good graces again, didn't it?

But that wasn't me. I couldn't go and spread a rumor – much less, an unconfirmed one – about a person as revenge for something _I_ screwed up. Especially when I remembered the look in his eyes; the silent, broken plea of, _"Don't tell anyone."_

I massaged my aching forehead and hoped listlessly for a distraction.

The answer to my prayers came in the form of one Professor Doris Meadowes levitating a large wardrobe into the room.

"Pardon my tardiness, all," she said, as she deposited the wardrobe in the front of the class. "I just had to pick something up."

James, of course, simply couldn't help asking, "Are we finally getting that course on warding off the darkest of the dark – the _unfashionable_?"

I joined the majority of students in low giggles, while Lily joined the minority in rolling her eyes.

"Ho ho ho," said Meadowes, "very clever Potter. Did you steal it from someone who actually studied for the Dark Objects quiz last week?"

James visibly pouted, muttering what sounded like, "Studying's no fun."

"I know, mate, I know," said Sirius, patting his neighbor on the shoulder.

"What you actually have here is a boggart," Meadowes explained. "Could anyone tell me about them? Ms. Evans?"

"Boggarts are shape-shifters that take the form of the viewer's worst fear," Lily dutifully answered. "No one knows the real shape of a boggart, however, though there has been speculation that a boggart's appearance is simply fabricated in the viewer's own mind."

"Couldn't have put it better myself," Meadowes said. "Now, I know you all faced and conquered boggarts as a part of your Third Year curriculum, but I just wanted to use this one as a little exercise. Producing Patronuses is extremely tricky at the best of times – I'd just like a few of you to demonstrate how difficult it is when you're faced with something that honestly frightens you. It's perfectly ok if you can't yet handle the spell, this is just a demonstration." She flicked her wand; all of a sudden, James' chair bucked and he went sprawling to the head of the classroom. "Potter, you're up."

James straightened his robes, before setting into a ready position, eyes fiery as he waited for the boggart to appear. Meadowes murmured a spell, the wardrobe door snapped open, and out stepped a man. I didn't recognize him; his age was evident in his gray hair, wrinkles, and laugh-lines, but there was certain youthfulness, a lively charm, to his hazel eyes – _James'_ eyes.

This must have been his father. Or grandfather, or –or something.

Suddenly, the man crumpled to the floor and was left staring up at the ceiling with blank eyes.

James' posture changed in the slightest of ways; his shoulders dragged downward and his elbows retracted to his sides. His footing seemed off balance.

_Crack!_

Before our eyes, the man on the floor transformed into a woman of the same age, with graying auburn curls and misted brown eyes. James' body seemed to quiver.

_Crack!_

And then there was Peter, blood trailing the length of his chubby face. I searched my classmates for the real Peter, just to ascertain that he was still alive, and he was – but the way he looked at his dead body, the fear and horror etched over his face . . . it was chilling. I tore my gaze away.

_Crack!_

Remus was next: paler that ever, even on his sick-days, with scars marring his face. He was the only person so far whose cause of death was very clear to me: wild animal attack. A quick glance at the actual Remus revealed him to be running a hand over his smooth face, as if to remind himself that the maiming was not real.

_Crack!_

My blood ran cold. Lying in Remus' place was Lily, just as dead and just as terrible as the others. _My_ Lily. My best friend.

Murdered.

Finally, James kicked to life. With a roar of, "_Expecto Patronum_!" his signature stag sprung from his wand and ran to circle Lily's corpse, again and again, faster and faster, until she was completely obscured from view. My shoulders sagged in relief.

No one applauded.

"Elliot, your turn," ordered Meadowes.

From her seat behind me, Alice obediently and silently replaced James. The stag disintegrated, allowing another dead man to be seen. For a moment, I thought the boggart had somehow gotten stuck on James' fear – until I realized that the man was Frank Longbottom.

"_Ex – Expecto Patronum_," Alice muttered, voice much too broken and fearful to truly belong to her. "C'mon . . . _Expecto Patronum_!"

Nothing happened. I was sure fear had beaten her, for maybe the first time.

But then Alice squared her shoulders.

"_Expecto Patronum!"_

A lithe coyote jumped to attention, silver and alert; just as the stag had, it circled the boggart with alarming dexterity, until it was but a blur of mist and light.

"Very good, Alice," said Professor Meadowes. "As you can see, class, even situations that are meant to break you may leave you even stronger than before."

Even after watching her worst fear play out in front of her eyes, Alice still found it in her heart to smile.

Professor Meadowes' eyes scanned the room; I slunk farther and farther down my seat.

"Ms. Johnston, why don't you give it a go!" she called, sounding far too cheerful. Bloody mad woman.

I gulped down air, as saliva rapidly made itself scarce, and dragged my leaden feet to the front of the room. I knew what my boggart would appear as of course, remembering the form it took in Third Year: a lifeless note, devoid of emotion, a note I would read even though I knew I shouldn't. A note telling me I had failed to save my father.

But does knowing what your fear is make it easier to face, or more difficult?

I steadied my feet, squared my shoulders, raised my wand. _I can do this, I can do this, I can do this._

The final remnants of mist from Alice's coyote faded, and staring me straight in the eye was Sirius Black.

My first thought was, _what the hell, Sirius, out of my way! _My second thought was, _Oh my god, that's not Sirius. _

There was no warmth, nor coldness to his mouth set. Neither affection, nor hostility in his stance. As if he was merely an illusion of my mind, a trick of the light.

But those eyes still retained the ability to capture mine in their depths.

"Figures," I heard Rosier's clear voice say, "the only person that a blood traitor could possibly scare is a Mudblood."

"Shut up, Rosier!" James snapped. "No one gives a fu –,"

"Quiet, both of you!" said Meadowes. "I will not tolerate that sort of language in my classroom." She hesitated, before adding, "Focus on your happy memory, Amanda. Nothing else matters."

I tried to clear my head of all negativity. "_Expecto Patronum_," I said. Nothing happened.

"Some witch she is," Rosier stage whispered, his remark clearly intended for me to hear. "And people wonder why we're trying to get rid of 'em . . ."

"Ex-Expecto . . ." My voice quivered.

"Aw, the wittle Muggle is going to cry because of the big bad Black boggart?"

Another voice chimed, "Someone cast a water repellent charm, we need to protect ourselves from the flood!"

And another: "Just don't ask Johnston to, she might end up killing you instead . . ."

"Dirty squib."

"Muggle whore."

"Shouldn't be allowed to go to this school –,"

"A disgrace to magic –,"

"Mudblood."

"SHUT UP!" I shouted, spinning around, wand held high.

_BANG!_

All was silenced, except for my jagged breathing rushing loudly in my ears. Every set of eyes stared in awe and fright at the sizzling hole I had blown through the door.

Quietly, I grabbed my book bag from beside my seat. I passed through the desks, hyperaware of the hot gazes of my peers on my face and back. Not bothering with the doorknob, I hopped through the hole. Walking, holding back tears, walking some more.

Only when I was certain they couldn't hear me did I take off at a sprint.

-X-

I was pacing in the empty common room.

"Oh my god . . ." I muttered to myself. "Oh my god, oh my god, oh my _god_ . . ."

Would I have to pay a fine for property damage? Would I be suspended? They wouldn't cart me off to Azkaban, would they?

Not only was I humiliated, but I was a fugitive, too!

". . . I should transfer to Beauxbatons . . . never able to show my face in this school again . . ."

"If you ask me, that's the quitter's way out."

I spun around, hand clutching at my chest, and found myself face to face with the cause of this entire mess.

"What are you doing here?" I snapped.

"Looking for you, of course," Sirius said. "Honestly, I'm shocked this is where you chose to run to. I figured the Astronomy Tower would have better suited the drama of the moment."

I averted my eyes, flushing in anger or embarrassment; I couldn't tell which. "Well, get it over with then."

"Sorry?"

"Go ahead, laugh at me, call me names. That's what everyone else did, right?"

He sighed, deep and low, and took a single step forward. "Amanda, those people in there are _not _everyone else – you know that. They're a few stupid elitists, quoting their mummies and daddies. Actually . . . I reckon there's something else we need to talk about." He took another step.

"No," I said immediately. "Nothing to talk about. In fact, I'd rather we just . . . forget everything that ever happened in that room." I stepped back, but he followed me forward.

"Did you know what the boggart would turn into?" he asked.

"No," I whispered brokenly. "I thought I did, but . . . no."

"What are you so afraid of?"

"I'm not afraid!" I shouted, startling us both. I wrapped my arms around myself, wanting nothing more than to run far away – but my feet seemed unwilling to move.

There was quiet. Simple quiet.

"The way you make me feel," I admitted at last. "How you held my heart in your hand, and then every time I think I've finally gotten it back, I realize . . . you'd never given it up in the first place. And I _hate_ how open and raw I am around you, and how it's like, when you look at me . . . you're looking into my soul. And my father is on his deathbed, and there are so many people in the world right now who want me dead for something I have no say in, and I just . . ." With a deep breath, I met his eyes. "I _can't_, Sirius. I can't afford to be as vulnerable as I am around you. I need to let go of all the hurt you caused me –,"

"But you're not, though, don't you see?" he cut in, surging forward. He stopped just short of touching me. "You're holding on to it, like some sort of shield to keep you safe. But it's not doing anything except hurting you more." He reached a deliberate hand up to cup my cheek. I closed y eyes, reveling in the feel of rough skin, his warmth. "It's time to let it go, Amanda."

My eyes flew open. "But I don't want to!" I cried, jerking backward. Once again, he'd gotten too close. "You hurt me, and I don't want to set myself up for that again!" The age-old argument sounded tired and boring, even to my own ears.

Sirius raked a hand through his hair; he, too, was nearing the end of his patience. "For Merlin's sake, you don't think I _know_ that?" he hissed. "You don't think I've _always _known?"

"It certainly didn't stop you all those years ago –,"

"I was fourteen!" he yelled. "I was an idiot! But you were, too – everyone was! Hell, most people still_ are_. But that's what happens when friends grow up together – you're idiots, and you make mistakes, but, in the end, you still love each other." I was shocked to see that his eyes were shining – with tears, or sheer emotion, or both. "I was a complete _arse_ to you, I know I was. I was an arse to everybody! But you were one of the only people who saw that beneath the douche there was an actual person, who was worth a second chance. It meant the world and more to me."

Each word was a punch delivered straight to my gut.

"I can't change what happened. So I've apologized," Sirius said, voice deathly still, "and I've meant it – I_ mean_ it. But . . . unless you can accept it, I suppose there's nothing more to do."

He broke eye contact, turned around, calmly walked to the portrait hole. He hesitated just before it, and I some twisted flashback to four years ago. I marveled at the irony. For ages, I tried to keep him at arm's length, fought with everything in my power to prevent this scene from playing out again – but if maybe I had stopped fighting so hard, if I gave myself permission to move on . . . maybe then, it never would have done so.

"I am done chasing you, Mandy," he said. "But, if you're ever ready for me . . . I'll always be waiting."

And for the second time in my life, Sirius Black left me to a silent room and a shattered heart.

-X-

**A/N:** So, one day, I sort of realized that my updating periods have hit rock bottom. I've also seen how selfish it is of me to keep you such kind people waiting for so long, and I truly apologize.

I am now having a self-staged intervention and I _**promise**_ that updates will be quicker in coming. Chapters may be a tad shorter, but you deserve better. Plus, I'm on summer break now, so I have a lot more time to write:)

About this chapter: I know it's frustrating, but things have to get worse before they can get better. And I really think that Mandy needed to be told to get the heck over herself; that yeah, he was a jerk, but she's not perfect either. Some of you may not agree, some of you may have wanted him to punch her – 'tis life, I suppose! ;-)

**Next chapter**: Just when Mandy thinks things are all over with Sirius, she finds they're only beginning.

I am so sorry, guys. But here's to a quicker update!

Squid


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